It was night on the streets of what I imagined
to be Italy; but only because the streets were stone
and a restaurant to the left spilled a red and yellow
glow on the round tables and umbrellas outside. I stepped out
of the painting by an artist whose name I neglected
to look for once the purple ceiling fan caught my attention.
I never noticed it before.
Past the coffee shop, I looked through windows that
displayed a carved bear, a wolf, an owl, a dog—
nevermind. The dog was an actual dog.
I saw a wedding and gargoyles,
three women in black,
a squirrel that sat with its arms stretched out
like it was using a typewriter.
He reminded me of Ulysses, whose super power
was the ability to write poetry. I forgot the title
of that book. I didn’t think
that squirrels could write, and street signs had name tags:
“Hello, my name is Peter Pan.”
But I saw that even doors will leave
you a note that says, “Close me tight (I get stuck)
Emma Corwin is a junior English major at SUNY Geneseo. When she isn’t writing or tackling her ever-growing pile of homework, she can be found indulging in foreign cultures, which usually means watching anime.