Dolce Far’Neinte
In London they hurry over grey leaden pavements, under
grey leaden skies. Slip into bars, sunglassed and beautiful.
Shame on you.
Here, the rules are simple. Drink espresso standing at the bar.
Come meet with the artisans of the famous ceramics village;
bike quiet poplar-lined roads past abandoned villas.
Eat pasta inspired by gods.
A more authentic sound will undoubtedly become
part of your daily routine.
I’ve slept in that piazza, eaten chestnuts, seen a man
with illicit sandwich fixings hidden under clothes. Been chased
by Venus herself.
Just be forewarned, one night might not be enough.
By Polly in VA (search term “bring your own bologna”)