bus tickets served
with morning smoke
and a sizzle of gossip

glimpse of a day moon
through the bell tower

a cavalry of nuns
storming the stop signs
in Piazza Venezia

high above the king’s legs
astride a bronze charger

the big reveal
of that third espresso
in a bar’s doorless WC

an old crone sweeps away
at one patch of floor

feeling touched
on the bus to St Peters
wallet’s off with angels

uplifting (g)lances
of a Swiss Guard

snow-cold aqua
from a Roman fountain
stabs my old teeth

pizza with a knife and fork
and waiters’ cheesy grins

the bidet’s relief
from top to bottom
of a footsore tourist