In the rhythm of sweat under hot lasers
brushing broken glass on a dance floor –
Bucharest.

Mango pulp between my toes,
every footprint is a fiesta –
Panama City.

Millennial pebbles
turn me into a river –
Krujë.

Socialism, Russian style,
old asphalt is rough –
Leipaja.

Capitalism on its way to hell
with course rust on a bridge –
Boston.

Breaths of progress are
crystals in a snow globe –
Zhujiajiao.

A slow humidity of the Atlantic
wraps the streets in a soft shell –
Bilbao.

A pilgrim among millions of crushers
of already long-crushed dust –
Vrindavana.

A sea of shards of alcoholism
at a vast empty parking lot –
Cape Town.

In over three hours
I haven’t stepped on a butt –
Singapore.

Dark-skinned men have just
washed the red district with jets –
Amsterdam.

Pavings stones are somehow
gray, even to the touch –
Helsinki.

I force myself to thread
gently over a stolen sea –
Venice.

Silky skin of the Earth’s bosom
is sticky from uninvited hands –
Volcano Maderas.

Cheap concrete hurts me,
I run to my ancestors’ stones –
Koper.