THE BRACELET MEN
The bracelet men have begun to filter in, their dark complexion
traversing the milquetoast tourist crowd, one drop at a time.
Their exchange begins with a handshake and ends with an open palm,
and the fact that they return confirms its great success.
Of course, there is more than one kind of success,
and successes have this way of bumping into one another:
a bump which, between two strangers, happens like a mid-air collision,
and (on this day, in particular) I wonder
why his small success should be allowed to impede mine,
which is to enjoy my coffee, my milk and toast,
free of pigeon and hastily woven bracelet.
Escaping the ego-introvert, I forget my plans and hope, instead,
that we might both abandon our goals to look above,
where the scaffolding adorning the healing Duomo
has begun to transform into modern architecture itself.