VERONICA IN VENICE.

A GIRL IN VENICE WITH HER PARENTS WRITES A POSTCARD TO HER LOVER.

The window shows the river.
Father and Mother are out
Touring the sights. You are

Lying in bed with a migraine,
Well at least that’s what you
Told them. You’re writing a

Postcard to Jackson and you
Don’t want them spying on
You as you write, trying to

Look over your shoulder,
Wondering what you’re
Saying and to whom. They

Don’t approve of Jackson,
They don’t like coloureds.
Especially not one as close

To them as their daughter.
But you love Jackson, love
It when he holds your hand

And kisses you so sweetly.
What to say? You muse,
Sitting with your back

Against the pillow. Venice
Is out of this world? Too
Trite. Although it is a

Splendid place and the
Sights are almost beyond
Words. But what to tell?

Dear Jackson…the folks
Are out doing the sights
And I am here on this lonely

Bed without you…we went
To a fine restaurant last night
And had a good spread…

I can’t seem to get you out
Of my head…not that I want to
… You put the end of the pen

In your mouth and suck. There
Are sounds from the river below.
Gondolas, people, that sort.

You smell things. The river,
The room, flowers, sweat.
The heat, the feet. Ought to

Bathe…Jackson if you were
Here you could scrub my back
… You remember that night

While the folks were in town
For that show and you and I got
In the bathtub together and

Washed each other all over
And then we heard the folks
Returning as we lay in bed

And you had to jump out the
Back window and I waved
You off…I’m running out

Of space on this darn card.
Venice is the place to be.
Food fine, weather wonderful

…you sign it and put kisses
On the bottom and stuff the
Card under the pillow as

Mother enters the room
With one of her concerned
Faces and drones on about

The sights and where they’d
Been and all you can think
Of is Jackson back home in

New Orleans in his tee shirt,
Sneakers and dark blue jeans