my culture slipped
as we walked down
fish lane, past girls
with the short skirts
and Hellenic sandals

pasithea sang from
doorways, offending
those who had already
given of the brightness
and now felt pale from
want and wishing

street cafes bustled
then cups shattered
as coffee beans
were ground
into one last
cappuccino

then just in time
I stepped back
into character