Carmine stands half-naked before first light, out

Leaning right above the untroubled turnpike,

Gazing sternly into the sunlight splitting,

Hewn by the buildings,

Into daylight. Julia calls from bed, still

Lounging. Carmine hears but doesn't answer. Clambers

Through the window after a moment passes.

“Omelet with cheese?” she

Asks, solicits. “Really, no time for breakfast,”

Zips his pants and buttons his shirt. The morning

Clamor's nearby. Julia sighs. A neighbor

Screams at her husband.

Roadways grow progressively louder. Carmine

Hears a swallow chirruping over traffic.

Now she comes, embraces him tightly, kisses

Softly his forehead.

Sometimes, through the window, a breeze will enter

Chilling both their legs. With the wind the city's

Fetor rises. Turning towards the mirror,

Used to the stench now,

Carmine watches Julia dress for work. He

Saunters over checking his hair. He strokes her

Cheek. He sees his hand is transparent, palm and

Fingers are vanished.

Carmine's heart aches. Julia hears it pounding

Nearly through his chest and she turns to him. He

Says, “I'm late for work!” and intensely kisses

Julia. “Love you!”.