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. :)
This is not a drill. The attack on Pearl. They were the ghost planes of the night, deadly, illusive, sharp-clawed Black Cats. The Memoirs of ARM H.P. Lawrence, a Pearl Harbor survivor, Black Cat, and decorated war veteran.
On February 20, 2003, pyrotechnics at a rock club in West Warwick, RI set off a devastating fire that roared through the crowded club, killing 100 people and injuring hundreds more. Gina Russo was one of the survivors, and she retells her harrowing e
Inside the Methadone Clinic. Addiction to heroin, methadone, and other opiates. Destruction. The primal addiction" of the child, power and control over your own life, the institutions and the characters, the love between a mother and son. This book i
Share
Print
Save
Follow
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!!!