Had to be in free verse because it was so informal, warm, and relaxing. No seriousness at all. Just pure pleasure.
on a balcony in Rome
smoking god knows what brand
sipping red wine
swapping sex stories
feeling chummy
lazy sleepy
from a wanderlust day
rolling through the streets
as though under fresh sheets
clear sky and sun
removed the grime of yesterday
arm in arm to a café
where she flirts with the waiter
and I down a brandy
with my espresso
and we talk of art
before the final meal
dinner of a dazed mind
more wine and unending food
she goes back to her hotel
and i to the Metro
where uniformed guards
motion stragglers past
a free ride at last
i lean against a chalky post
and await a final train
to the end of the light
The imagery is great in this idyllic piece. "Roma," I have thought about it since my return from visiting some years ago,and I look forward to returning.
An idyllic student experience treasured in memory. Richly interwoven with the texture of place. I felt like I was there with you… An invisible observer.
In that last line, did you mean to the end of the "line," or "light?" Or am I being too obvious with my un-poetic thoughts and you really did mean, light?
Interesting exercise in honest growing pains, feathered with a streaming consciousness that serves its purpose. Like dreams, memories often take on a flow that is at once off-putting without any punctuation, and conversely, honest to the flowing nature of recall.
That damned chalky post got you again! Oh, I know this scene well. Only I stayed at a luxury hotel for $12/day. Don't ask how I pulled that off. The rest is a mirror copy of yours right down to the sex stories. Did you ride naked thru the streets on a Vespa? Just asking. Neither did I. :)
A passionate and poignant memoir written by a woman whose life has been guided by the words: "I am here to learn how to love well." The book is a deep examination of relationships, family, motivation, and honoring of the Self.
TRUE STORY. Bella survived an abusive powerbroker father with organized crime ties, a drug-addicted mother and a physically/sexually abusive brother. Shocking & inspirational. When she couldn't cry, she tattooed a crying angel to cry for her.
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Such a relaxing write...
Summed up in my Italian Teachers...(eyes closed)
"Ah...Roma..."
A total delight!
Diana...
Thanks for sharing,and continued success-
Barbara J. Henry
Regis
In that last line, did you mean to the end of the "line," or "light?" Or am I being too obvious with my un-poetic thoughts and you really did mean, light?
Ron
"rolling through the streets
as though under fresh sheets"
PERFECT!!!