by Colin Webb
we’d walk against something new, ripening
the Piedmont-Lombardy effort
of booked hostel summers, passion
like high-schoolers being promised
a dry heat and getting
bus-bound shoulder contact on
first espresso, feeling really American
toward the day, your denim
against my smooth evening, my cotton
against your vineyard hike, where
we gulped all the nervous air
of our inevitable catharsis
Colin Webb is a native of Baltimore, Maryland. His poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Apeiron Review, Cha: An Asian Literary Journal, The Northern Virginia Review, White Wall Review, and elsewhere, and he has been a finalist for The Arch Street Prize.