Messina

David Keplinger

Take Messina: you'd be impressed and even sad that I remember. The crag of mottled faces the rocks made like old pensioners in back pages of a magazine. The light as bright as dentistry.

In Messina you're alone‚ available‚ the youth in your face still rising. As if there'll be no end to youth and solitude‚ the sea below Messina answers: solitude is beauty‚ even after you

get cold‚ go back to the hotel‚ and light begins to change‚ to fade‚ at each stage resonant. Messina? I have never been. You told the story quickly when I loved you; now here it is

exactly as you left it‚ its old stone faces alternately old and then like children‚ elated by a fallen tooth.