Ruth Holzer
Herndon, Virginia, USA

Via dei Due Macelli

The farmer's market was held from dawn till noon on Butchers' Street. I'd buy our daily provisions there: crusty wheat bread, vine-ripened tomatoes, green peppers, fat sausages full of blood and spice, crisp white globes of fennel and goat cheese still dripping with milk. I'd bring yesterday's empty bottle to the corner shop for a refill straight from the barrel. In my windowless room we'd dine, sitting close together on the single bed.

puddles of wine—
other sailors
wherever you went