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