Waiting for a Train in Venice

We were waiting for the train in Venice

after a winter week sipping Giudecca

at the Calcina?

I can’t recall.

I wrote a story at that window

framing Chiesa del Santissimo Redentore,

or Chiesa San Giorgio Maggiore,

a story starting 

an opera ending 

with a woman, singing 

while Venice ends,

and Mestre ends

Lido ends,

and she, singing,

ends, falling 

while sighing

into a filthy canal.

We were waiting for a train in Venice

After a winter week sipping Giudecca,

At the Calcina?

I can’t recall.

Murano sparkled,

glass chandeliers,

glass figurines,

glass shops, 

with glass things

that just catch dust,

the glass museum, 

glass dumpsters,

overflowing colors

from before time:

I heard an English voice

say “look at how pretty…oh…

it’s a skip!” 

But it is pretty,

this mountain

glittering color,

and it was a skip, and a hop,

and a jump, 

from Giudecca

to Murano.

And, there is a cemetery.

I ran my camera,

along narrow

Venice streets and closes,

acqua alta splashing,

bouncing on planks,

stretched brick to brick,

spotting sandbagged doors,

shutter clicking 

I ran without aim,

before leaning palazzos

over tiny canal bridges,

I want to remember

the couple bickering,

is a child’s school

a place for learning,

or a madhouse,

the silhouette 

an elderly couple make 

strolling under 

an ancient archway.

Then we waited for a train in Venice

After a winter week watching Giudecca,

At the Calcina?

I can’t recall.

A vaporetto conversation 

about snow returned,

as it slanted downward, 

a veil for Santa Lucia, 

we waited,

and we waited,

watching the old-fashioned monitor

slowly flick destinations 

upward until 

our destination was lost

in the sky

and falling snow still fell.

I knew this opera

was nearly over, 

its tragic beauty

veiled in Venetian snow,

while the lady’s song

reached crescendo.

We were waiting,  the train from Venice 

was very late, snow was falling

after a winter week of sun and Giudecca,

at Pensione Calcina?

I can’t recall.