While in Italy…

By Andrew R. Duckworth

It was before the iPhone,
No endless picture reel.
In 2006, it was Roma first,
Then it was Assisi, then Perugia,
Then Firenze, Then Venezia,
Then the southern peninsula-
Napoli, Surriento, then Capri.

I bought a cologne there
You couldn’t get in the states
At the time. Now, you can,
But you’re set back
A few hundred.
I’ve searched for colognes
That hold the same scent.
Can’t find them.
That scent is unique,
Something that screams Capri,
At least to me.

Each city held an operatic song
That played on loop in my mind,
Still play when I think about
A particular city,
Torna a Surriento, for example.

I didn’t know a lick of Italian
But a few barely useful phrases,
But I know Italian when I hear it.
I hear a few strings of words and
Aha! Italiano!
I still barely have a handle
On the language, although I can
Speak more of it now, when it
Isn’t useful for me to do so.

Me and my sister were so tired
When we got to Rome. Up all night
From excitement, leave early,
Nine hour flight, arrive at six
In the morning, Get in line to
Visit St. Peter’s Basilica.
Pope Saint John Paul II had just
Been laid to rest, cement freshly
Dried. A crowd around to pay
Their respects with guards nearby.
A few people sold flowers. Sister
Bought some and I marched right
Over the ropes to put the flowers
On the tomb. Suddenly, Italian
Words I had never heard before
Came pouring down like a constant
Roar of a waterfall. I had just
Stepped on the tomb of a Pope.
Lord, forgive me. In my exhausted
Stupor, I failed to notice that
I was to give the flowers to
Those attending to the tomb.
When I began to apologize,
They realized I was American
And began laughing. Sister was
Mortified. Nuns crossed themselves
And the guards laughed an
Uncomfortable laughter.

The view of the valley
From the low heights of Assisi
Is one of the most stunning
Landscapes in memory.
Perhaps it was the meaning,
The history, the vastness of hills
And the small towns scattered.

Venezia was wonderful,
Particularly for the gondolier
Who took pleasure in my fear
That the gondola would tip
In the grand canal
From the massive waves
Coming off the ships.

I was told that if you get shit
On by the pigeons in the square
It is considered good luck.
Plenty of pigeons, no shit,
Thank goodness.

Several bottles of wine,
Basilicas, and landscapes later,
We made our way back to Roma,
Then back to the states,
Back to reality.
I’ll go back some day.
I tossed a coin in the Trevi.