By Greg Moglia

I got lost in Venice once

In the labyrinth of sides and sides of streets

With shop after shop that sells

Those little carnival dolls

Black circles about the eyes

No canals to be seen

A sense of death ready to slip out

of any of the tiny shops

grab me by the neck, pull me down

Say to me Did I need this walk?

In a sweat I turn this way and that

Still lost, but then up this lane and there

The cafes, the music - safe

Freed into the everyday - Venice for the visitor

Yet travel into the back streets

Where day light turns to dark,

something digs at me…something about dying

To be lost without trying…without choice