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| Once upon a time I was sitting outside the cafe |
| watching twilight in Umbria when a girl came |
| out of the bakery with the bread her mother wanted. |
| She did not know what to do. Already bewildered |
| by being thirteen and just that summer a woman, |
| she now had to walk past the American. |
| But she did fine. Went by and around the corner |
| with style, not noticing me. Almost perfect. |
| At the last instant could not resist darting a look |
| down at her new breasts. Often I go back |
| to that dip of her head when people talk |
| about this one or that one of the great beauties. |
