INTAGLIO
Con brio, arriverderci and the rest. I found the
startling language on a mug-top visor, holding the
espresso cup, easing the coffe urn. Whatever jilted
fantasy makes your Italian mind go. You can carry
your Gina Lollabridgida hat to my pasta fagioli hut
anytime. I never leave the confines of home : makes
for a fine, dangling pepper-pot, and all the German
tourists come. Now, over and again my father talks:
his battleship-tender stories, his memories of those
shoe-shine days. I want to say 'enough!' but
how can you hurt an already broken heart?
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