Some days, my mind, it wanders
Carries me away, just briefly
Times of past and familiar places
Come rushing back to greet me
I’m in the streets of Florence now
Making my way to Franco’s place
The Duomo cleans up nicely
I drink coffee at the local pace
Tormented by thoughts of pizza
I can taste the tomatoes and cheese
Nights on the bridge with wine and friends
The guitarist’s tune picked up in the breeze
Another thought, I’m in the future
White noise and a beer in my hand
I lean in to answer your question
Which version of my story can you stand?
Do you want the whole thing?
Or are you asking to be nice?
What justice is served to shorten it to
“I taught English and I ate rice”?
Some days, my mind, it wanders
And I float away without remorse
A distraction from the here and now
Bittersweet to be caught in that force
