
	Copyright © 2002 LeeAnn Heringer

St. Mark's Square in the moonlight

the quintets of violinists
and bass players, the pianists
and accordionists have been playing
on the white draped stages of St. Mark's Square
for hundreds of years. you can hear it
in their medleys of waltzes
and American show tunes,
in their emotional renditions of Mozart
and his Barber of Seville.
these men, in their black suits
and bow ties, have played
the theme from the Titanic
the last thousand nights.

in the evening mist,
in the thin, pearl colored fog
that never completely burns off,
St. Mark basilica seems flat
as a painted stage setting.
the carved renaissance balconies,
the stairways of the Doge's palace,
are empty
as an abandoned theater.
the pigeons and tour groups
gone to roost for the night.
and across the black water,
in half brush strokes
and pale grays
are the outlines of more cathedral domes,
San Giorgio Maggiore
and Santa Maria della Salute.
you. haggling with a gypsy
over the price of three roses
from his armful.

him, haggling to sell you the whole bouquet.

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