venice

arriving on a rainy november night
i wander lost through labyrinth streets
and stumble upon an opera singer who sustains my soul

behind her, in a shop window
glittering masks pile up on top of each other like a massacre of dolls

pigeons squat on raised walkways in the square

venice is sinking
and with it, the old world drowns

salta

we scoop ice cream from styrofoam buckets
and consume nothing but sweet coffee and sticky croissants for breakfast

at the museum, incan mummies lie frozen in time
sacrificial children unearthed

we hike through desert sands and red-stone mountains

the train tracks reach so high
we can almost touch the clouds

as the glistening salt flats come into view
pristine pools of blue play tricks on our eyes

j hands us cocoa leaves to stave off the altitude sickness
his eyes crinkle –

i’m in love

juneau

reclined on the balcony
i watch low-lying clouds stalk the mountainside like a hungry ghost

k is working
so i go hiking by myself

only a few minutes from downtown
i disappear into expansive wilderness

i watch in horror as mendenhall glacier slowly melts into oblivion
a behemoth reduced to pure nothing

meanwhile, cruise ships the size of skyscrapers dock city center
unloading thousands of tourists by the hour

gliding through the serene pacific waters at the speed of my own arms
i feel at peace again

i bake cookies for k and head south
it’s time to move on

cordoba

too busy, too industrial
after a week spent rummaging through deserts and mountains in the north

we follow some basement stairs and stumble into a rock show
i meet a musician who looks like John Lennon

but, there is little time for romance
we have to head out again on the evening bus

hawaii

it’s hot and humid
and palm trees threaten to drop coconuts on passersby

the beach is only a short walk from downtown

i conquer the majestic waves on a piece of painted cardboard
and eat savory, spicy shrimp from a roadside food truck

we sleep upstairs with fans on full blast

in the morning
our gecko friend greets us for breakfast

we chew on sugarcane and zipline through banana fields

we hike through purple ferns and pink ginger
following the shiny volcanic rocks all the way to the ocean

a volcano erupts

don’t worry, say the newsmen
lava flow is slow

no evacuations this week

las vegas

we sleep in a second rate hotel behind circus circus

i play nickel-slots in the lounge, hoping for a free cocktail
but service is slow

a city full of twinkling lights
an endless array of cheap thrills and sex sold on postcards

nothing more than a strip of lust and abandon in the middle of the desert

new york

we walk through central park covered in snow

breathing cold breaths
pulling warm hats over our ears

the statue of liberty sits in a hazy fog in the distance

as the day turns into cold, black night
we head for broadway

rent, phantom, little shop of horrors
s knows the way

san diego

an old lady across the street needs help switching out a light bulb
so we nearly miss the bus

bright sunshine pounds against the asphalt
mocking my melancholy mood

we sit silently across from one another, nursing our beers
could i have known we’d break up on this trip?

back at the beach
a pair of seagulls snatch our leftover lo mein

a sign of end times

portland

a dozen bridges cross the willamette river
numbered, alphabetized streets form a perfect grid

gluten-free, grass-fed, organic
vegan, bulk food only

we travel by bicycle, alone and in gangs
drinking coffee and craft brews all day

back at home
we harvest lettuce and basil from sidewalk gardens

we pick roadside blackberries
and play frisbee with the dogs

the simple life
a hipster’s paradise

tokyo

a sea of neverending skyscrapers
districts and downtowns in waiting

we cycle through asakusa on rented bikes
snaking through crowded pedestrian sidewalks

we eat fresh sushi from colorfully-patterned plates
and lose 1000 yen in a single game of pinball

pachinko prizes are bartered in back alleys,
someone whispers in our ear

yeosu

for lunch
i snip long, glass noodles into a spicy kimchi broth with silver shears

at dinner
live sea urchins wrap around my silver chopstick

the octopus is served still writhing on the plate
the eyeball, it’s a delicacy! the host shouts

i politely decline

paris

caught in a rainstorm at the top of the eiffel tower
the wind whips our faces and rain showers the immaculate garden landscape below

we meander through impressionist paintings in a train station
renoir, monet, gaugin — all my french class favorites

across the seine, we admire the beautiful glass pyramid
but, there’s too little time

mona lisa will have to wait

buenos aires

we lounge on the sweltering rooftop deck of our san telmo hostel
and admire colorful murals

we navigate the elaborate shrines of recoleta cemetery
following cat tracks to eva peron

we eat chocolate-dipped churros
and dance tango for the first time

back at the office
i suck yerba mate out of a straw all day

wishing i was still there

monaco, antibes & nice

luxury cars fill the casino parking lot

we dip into the mediterranean sea
and walk past creamy gelato in watercolor palettes

the houses on the hill are stacked on top of each other like sardines
poised toward the marina

further south
a coastline of gravel beaches moves to the tune of a seaside pianist

london

i gaze at the parliament building through the eye’s large, glass capsule

spinning slowly
the ferris wheel’s white arteries stretch out above the thames

at the tate
a video installation on still life displays rotting fruit

modern art, they call it
but i’m not so sure

fort collins

3am cram sessions fueled by espresso milkshakes
and discussions with train-hopping anarchists

we eat tempeh burgers
and sip dirty gin martinis

living in dorms and houses
with too many roommates to count

we write postcards and drink free beer at new belgium
we hike and raft and snowboard in the rockies

our eternal playground –
that one stable bastion of everlasting beauty and hope to the west

denver

i hop up and down at rock shows all along colfax
followed by 2am omelettes in 50s-style diners

bloody toes protrude from my leather sandals
maybe moshing was a bad idea

sixteen street mall is crowded with buses and bike messengers
and tourists buying native american t-shirts

we eat chocolate cake and sip hibicus tea at our favorite coffeehouse
before heading to the mercury

slam poetry and swing dancing awaits

grenoble

the mousse au chocolate at the fountain bakery is so good —
it’s deadly

we blow apple smoke rings and drink sweet mint tea in the main square

boys jump through cars and crowded subways shouting
beaujolais, beaujolais in drunken revelry

a celebration of the new season’s wine

i walk down the tree-lined streets toward campus
backed by the chartreuse mountains

where monks cull medicinal herbs from ancient recipes

chicago

lakeshore drive stretches on for miles
dotted with athletes of every kind

surfers in wetsuits, even in winter

if i didn’t know any better
i’d think lake michigan was the ocean

buildings by architectural giants
line up like dominos along the magnificent mile

we watch sketch comedy and volunteer in a homeless shelter
mothers and daughters striving to better their lives