Ode to Rennes

I found you,

in the secrets of your roads

twisted and old,

carved by people

and windows;

laundry,

and phone lines

half erased,

but lingering

like something

mysterious

on your tongue.

I have lived in awe of you,

my lust for adventure,

and wandering

lost down streets

for days,

watching

rooftops

and chimneys,

red and black

and continuous,

moving up and down like mountains

against the sky.

I searched in you

for something,

and only could I find

my eyes,

drowning from you,

words filling my body,

and finally,

quiet.

Space being redefined

like paintings:

renaissance clouds,

and jazz,

umbrellas,

and cafes,

graphity,

orange bursting sunsets,

sweet tequila,

and cigarettes;

into a place I could fit in my hands at night,

smaller than the moon in my window

or my front porch in the summer.

You, lustrous you,

who transformed my body into curves

and poetry,

echoing silence,

and concaved,

like the way the

blue molds the sky

round, ripe and infinite.