the weather is nice, and I'm thinking of you

.

urbs aeterna

I never saw you so green
as the first day on the train
from Fiumicino to Termini
after interminable journey
by Canadian plane
to the world’s belly button,
holy living coffin
of
prehistoric colour,
six inch stilettos and
telefonino
fever.

I was afraid of you then;
your sixteen degrees in
January
made me discard
my jacket—me,
the victim,
sheepish in
your fashion kingdom.

But
after the first bite of
carbonara,

the first lick of
fragola

I forgave you
your bambinos, your
motorinos,
even
what your churchmen did
to my marble Coliseum.

I was afraid of you, Roma,
until I breathed your air;
after
the kisses
you blew
in my cappuccino

I never saw
a better-looking woman.