my little italy

i woke up this week to a dream of italy
aromas of roasted espresso
warm sounds of gathered friends lingering over warm drinks
i listen to the symphony and shapes flowing
effortlessly off the tongues of those around me
its inside of me somewhere, deeper than i was aware

everything is a poem here in my little italy
everything has a more subtle beauty
'you have to give the milk time to relax' says lorenzo
the energy is alive, attentive
and yet everything runs a bit more slowly


salivating, my eyes roll over each brilliant colored gelato
we are all watching one another
all sharing stories, transfusing into the one great story

the evening flies by, as they always do here
the warm air is quietly stepping out the door,
not wanting to disturb the other guests whose
cheeks are still flushed from the heat, from the happiness

autumn has arrived
and there i am in my little italy once again
the smells, the sounds, the sights, the people
all the glamour of italy has rushed into me once again

only maybe it hadn't truly disappeared...