On a spotless street in Monaco
across the road from the Hermès and Gucci stores,
there is a railing etched with initials.

    “Can I please have your key?”
    “Sure, for what?”
    “You’ll see.”

You carve S + C into a free space,
then press the key into my hand.
I snap a photo, smiling.

    “We have to remember where it is, for when we come back.”
    “If the Hermès and Gucci stores are still here, we’ll know where to look.”
    “Maybe we can actually shop there, next time.”

Arms around each other’s waists,
we dodge the Monaco cops who mutter,
“Les touristes. Ugh.”


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