We walked down from Piazza San Marco Vaparettos darting in and out Night mist along the Grand Canal A large wooden door creaked open I jumped at once into your arms The reassuring sturdiness Of your ironically thin frame Against my stocky shoulders Yet still I felt completely enveloped By the safety of you That was when you still loved me Or I thought you did Mediocre pasta at a little Rustic restaurant With plenty of libations Endless political conversations Your white tipped hair Candlelight reflecting silver frames Small scar just above thin lips My long flowing strands Sporting utterly ludicrous red lipstick A queer gal in drag Yet somehow you made me feel All woman Like some old movie star All makeup, curves and thighs That was when you still loved me Or I thought you did Our favorite hotel bartender The show he put on every night Heating your glass with wild flame Before filling it with Remy Martin XO I wonder if it’s still your favorite Blue flames from my own sambuca Endless white wine flowing Like the waters that would’ve covered us Had we been sitting in that exact spot In 1966 Your laugh and smile and caress Your desire and passionate touch White sheets and our legs entwined That was when you still loved me Or I thought you did Hotel breakfast with window views of gondolas A morning kiss smelling of musky aftershave They looked adoringly at us You 20 years my senior Getting one more shot at youth Your hand was so warm in the Venetian cold You passed as European Not I, every bit the loud American “She’s so beautiful until she opens her mouth” A British woman once said of me Oh that I could’ve been mute those days Pretend that I had never worked in a factory Or callused my hands driving a forklift truck Swearing prodigiously and chomping cigars Pretending that before I met you I had Any knowledge at all of Fine wine Fine art Fine dining Yet you overlooked all that Because that was when you still loved me Or I thought you did We walked along the Canal that winter As I tried to be your Chanel No. 5 wearing wife As I tried to be everything I was not Still, it was a nice reprieve From my white trash nativeness From the utter coarseness of my world Playing at sophistication Playing at love Playing at marriage But so long ago that I can smile now When I get these memories From Venice, With Love From the time When you still loved me Or I thought you did