F = 9/5(C) + 32

For today, in Spoleto, solve for C=25;

Or else, check out the atmospheric pics
Once the hung iPhone solves its problems.

With each invitation, each gathering,
At Nove Centro, our circle ever widens.

Not that we have yet encountered anyone
Often enough to secure a firm connection.

Nor that those like us, of advancing age,
Have tools to pierce the Babel of tongues.

It’s just a sense, apart from any God-given,
Of a wider world and a growing affection.

The Ex-Pat is an archetype, I suppose.
Living within and yet apart, s/he knows
Customs & places, restaurants & faces,
The barriers that every tourist crosses.

A passport is stamped where it falls open
On lines of direction, planes of past time.
Visiting the same place, in a new season,
Invites pilgrims to explore life’s rhythms.

In a doorway more inviting than wide,
Talking back and forth with a beloved,

The body overlooks an arm outstretched.
In this way a back goes into spasms again.

Sleep when it comes looks like this:
(Selfies, as a genre rule, don’t irk me,

Yet I will spare everyone the mugshot &
Stipulate to a jailbreak in the flight-:)

But since then, that’s pretty much been it:
Snatching little bits of sleep if it comes,

A self-defeating strategy, experts insist,
How very hard it is, even so, to resist.

A couple of years back, I wrote a post about the Yugo Mercedes. I joked at the time about the very odd pedigree, speculating on its evolutionary descent.

This year, with Rebecca still testing out her roundabouts with vertigo, we latched on to “the mother ship,” with a smoooooth ride and a cool operator.