Free Verse Poem

As I Walk Through Venice

I smell the perfumes

                                   of oranges and salt,

small speckles of stone 

                                       sanded by hand.

The dust gathers on the ground;

                        moldy and ancient. Lemons

drip slowly down

                            through the soft wet fingers

of an woman of eighty years,

                     her flesh growing cold

and drifting on water

                                   through the canals

                                    Small specks of lilies

drift like sunspots

        among banana peels and reflections

of a moon with mango flavored

                                                   thoughts; a sweet

and a sour rose  

                           wandering off to sea.