Junkyard Image #2 (Week Five)

He sees me, hunched over the balcony rail, stretching myself out over Spoleto's hills, out into the view of what I've made mine. Five weeks and I am a colonist, created this name from the mouth of bartenders and glasses of wine--carved it from the cobblestone, out of a Spoletini's hands, out of nothing but your hand on the small of my back and my back pressed against a mural of Madonna and Child. In my ear you sing Spoleto a lullaby, a goodbye for both of us.