Pula -- travel locks

They moved the bus station... brought it north above the hill, they didn't tell the mapmakers or the driver of a taxi who happily collects his tip for tossing a single bag from the trunk. The knapsack is yellow, like the colour of sand beneath a street now strewn with construction.

Pula, one could say that all roads lead there, but there's only two ways in and out. Only one view to the Roman Amphitheatre too! What brings me here milennia after Jason and Medea escaped with the Golden Fleece

Member States of the Pageant Universe

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We have gathered: a night full of breezes,
shores unsettled. We have lips that whisper
like backgrounds to a river, a voice too,
shedding in pools denied by this (or that) evolving hope.

We have substance attached to our bones,
red sand, mineral water, a flavour that gives
the sky its unending light. We have a leg
to stand on, two that walk, (gold teeth to lie through).