she's curled up on the sofa
her legs tucked beneath,
her eyes of blue oceans
miles away

in her lap's an Italian
map, a Fodor's & Berlitz

the sun of her continent
heats the bay window
but she seeks il sole
dell'alta terra

of that other land of wine, olives, latin
Mediterranean

she starts with the words
then the rhythm seduces
tempts her into the culture
the music, the people

that may bring out her man
but that isn't her ultimate

and she's never forgotten
night moons from Shakespeare
villas, Verona, Venezia
or items on menus
parmigiano reggiano
rolling soft on the tonge

last night she played opera
Pavarotti, Bocelli

soothed by Tuscany and tenors
she stretched out on satin
slept with the serenity of
(fuori del paese
e profumi di riviera)
the scents of the seacoast

in her dreams there's a plane ticket
for she's never been
nor any of her relatives
no ancestry there...

but forever she's planned to
and to master the language
curl her tongue over it
embrace the romance
of that storied place

where Leo Buscaglia learned
a hug (un abbraccio) is
like breathing

now in her mid-life
maybe she'd find answers
to her world of distance

by breaking away
to that other sun?

04/11/2001

Author's Note: grazie, Maria Massarella, for the tips and suggestions on some of the Italian inclusions.

Posted on 07/16/2004
Copyright © 2024 Maureen Glaude