Roman Holiday

Rome will always be here
eternal, imperishable
unlike fresh fruit or cheeses
or the days of our lives.

The dank catacombs
the Colosseum, Appian way or
that monastery of the cloistered ones
where b******s were abandoned by shamed mothers.

Or that hill near the Tiber
a landfill of wine bottles; trash
the ancients left us to gush over
and show us that they lived.

But after spaghetti with clams
and sea bass,
wine and grappa
stuffed mushrooms and gelato

I am seated at Caffe Greco
an ancient Roman coffee house
a piano that Rossini played
where Goethe scribbled poetry.

Having wolfed down
fried cod a la Romana
tortellini and vino rustico
one can excuse me
for passing on the dank, the history and the ruins

They’re not going anywhere
the polished marble and stone walls;
I’m young after all, in the Spring of life
and tomorrow is another day.

.