In a city where green
moss coats the trunks of trees, and the sun floats in a
a bevy of bridges lift over the
once sailed upon.
stones sink into a risen river's
chaotic voices mumbling a Sphinxian riddle.
A few days after returning
home, while considering
over the mountain,
I stopped by an aqueduct
like a thirsty
throat. A woman with
two dogs approached.
One ran to me, licking my offered
held back by its collar.