The city is a vast cardboard
neon wasteland
full of luscious oases
Past the noisy cigar filled casinos
with artificial blue sky and fluffy clouds
grow glass poppies the size of small trees
Spanish moss and cherry blossoms
hang from a huge banyon tree
Sea pines, junipers and chocolate gelato
Transport me to Tuscany
I am part of the glittering Eiffel Tower
I find the Paris of Moulin Rouge
as cancan dancers perform high kicks and wild splits
As Bellagio’s fountains dance
I linger at street cafés feeding sparrows fresh baguettes
I tour art galleries
filled with Impressionist paintings
I ride gondolas in shallow canals by Piazza San Marco
like Frank and Paul before me
I do it
My way.