we climb up to fog
where the Plain of Lombardy
is not plain
they are talking about sleet
it sounds like the end
of everything
the station clock
is haunted
by Benito Mussolini
the time is 1922
but we’re not going
to Roma Termini
no march today
but four men
approach us
through the atrium
the marble floor
the great steel canopy
ghosts without purpose
De Bono & Balbo
Bianchi & de Vecchi
they fade to black
among the Chinese
tourists taking
long-range selfies
with selfie-sticks
our taxi takes us
through Piazzale Loreto
where there are no ghosts
& no Esso station
& west past the Cimitero
towards a small room
where we invent better
futures by talking
about poetry & history
