Yellow Sweater

The Romans were made of marble. 

With the heavenly grace of carved muscles and pride, 
they equated Divine Providence with bureaucracy. 

Each empire has its own currency,
it's own series of sacred faces 

The light was soft, painfully soft. The exquisite gold of the sunrise muffled our passion. I reached for her hand, but she pulled away, regarding her own reflection in the lake with clinical poise.

Sweat soaked and delirious in unflattering khaki, I smell durian:
the notorious stink of custard, sweet side alleys, and jungle sunset,

Tourists dream of cheap cloth and translators, 

Through my astrolabe I see the universe’s concentric squares. 
My longing keeps me captive and sacred in God’s incomprehensible geometry. 

Metal to metal; sweating and sea ready, 
he mends his boat. 

We drive through the blue shipyard, 
listening to Christmas carols. 

Dusk is quiet like the sunset was, 

What I remember most about France was the sun. Even though we visited during a time of historic storms, it glared. 

In June of 2016, Paris flooded.
You wouldn't believe how green the hills were. 

Brexit,