I could feel the heat of their stories
the sun shone from their mouths and their skin
glowing in the fading light of the dying day
spain, italy, and portugal rolled like new languages from their tongues
gypsies like thieves came alive in their eyes
and pushed and shoved and harassed
stole and ran, with dirty feet, through the thousand year old arches of the Coliseum
disappearing into shadow and history with Johnson's wallet and the last of his patience

Kari talked of trains, slow steel snakes, and almost summer sunsets
meeting funny old men with faces like brothers or fathers; angels in Spanish clothing
She told us about a fat man with a thirsty parakeet and the terrible smell of humanity
about breakups and breakdowns
and about learning to be a lover, a sister, and a friend

I had forgotten
or perhaps I'd never known
how much they both meant to me
that night in my small dank room
filled to spilling with clothes
and no room to sit
they lit me up with laughter
they showed me mystery again, and gave me back my smile
they reminded me of why I loved them, what it is to be loved
and what exactly it was
I needed to be me again

AcB 04.27.01