Standing here, looking west
you can almost see
Barcelona
Roses, near Castelvetrano
sometimes I hear you playing the piano
the clear notes in the air like voices
the colors clear as a vase of Sicilian roses
for true, it's not an illusion
I know
its not as in a dream
for in a dream I know
the humming notes in the air are
not roses
but echoes begging
vanishing
no, when I hear your piano notes
out of the Yamaha
with the phones plugged in
the phones encasing your ears
I know what you play
even if I am rooms away
I know
Sicilian roses
22.06.11
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