Bratislava

thisthis, i breathe, as the opera
lights the faces the applause lights
the square and i,i
am left breathing left living
thisthis moment.
like crying with audrey in the rain
a block in my chest goose-
bumps my arms and
tears flow out mine eyes.

i tried by squinting my eyes
closed to imprint his face there
the patterns of hair
the wrinkles, but of
the smiling eyes just
satisfied
with remembering.

--
from the little english he could speak, thanks to an expatriate brother in australia, and the little magyarul we could muster, we conversed for hours on the train north. smiling old man, lost in his memories, trying to convey the importance of his country's history... passing small towns through the yellow-stained train windows, towns we could not see unless we stood up to peer through the window opening at top: tatabayna, gyor all along the duna. and a final vislat!
--
beautiful little town, hauntingly surrounded by communist-built housing... picture your dorm building through a prism, endless mirrors reflecting the stone and windows for miles and miles there is no horizon behind these. castle on a hill, national museum, soft language... sigh.