Late last evening, we stood
on the sidewalk in front
of that Italian restaurant—
the one near Dupont Circle,
where the burrata was wonderful
and the bottle of Paolo Bea
made us rather drunk.

What I only can recall
(I drank too much wine,
remember?) is your kiss
as you stepped into the taxi
that ferried you back
into Virginia.

Perhaps it is just me,
but I dreamed I felt some tongue.

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byTzara© 6 comments/ 1913 views/ 0 favorites

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