Buon Compleanno

by Steven Marty Grant
(New York, NY USA)

It rained on All Saints’ Day
and I think it was your birthday
some nine time zones to the west.

Missing you feels different
in Italian; more tragic I guess.
Persi amore, o rammarico.

You told me you’d wait for me
but we both knew it was a lie;
a self-preservation you allowed me.

I wonder when it all will end;
the girls, the boys and the lies
told to faceless lovers in the dark.

For now the Eternal City calls me
and I imagine you are still asleep,
some nine time zones to the west.

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