Gelateria Fassi


I am the only one left
in this deserted gelateria,
the only audience sustaining
these lovers. Even the scoopers,
who were flirting, are collecting
their coats. It will be awkward,
baggy lovers, soul-smooching
with your cashmere gestures,
for you to continue without me.
What will happen if remorse
creeps under the door? I can
stave off stinging regret too,
the thousand compromises that
will destroy you, yes I alone
keep you present — mostly
I think, because your hands.

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