Mediterranean Summer Salad

J: “I’ll have the Mediterranean Summer Salad with Feta and Shrimp, but I have a shrimp allergy, so instead, may I please have the scallops?” 

W: (with dramatic, feigned furrowed brow of empathy and regret) “Why I’m sorry sir, unfortunately we cannot make substitutions on The Mediterranean Summer Salad with Feta and Shrimp.”

J: (with equally feigned furrowed brow of incredulity and a subtle smirk of defiance and self-satisfaction) “Hmmmm, OkAAAy, well then how about The Mixed Green Summer Salad with feta and scallops?”

W: “Well that, we can certainly do sir!”

J: (inner voice) Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?”

W: “Excuse me sir! How is The Mixed Green Summer Salad with feta and scallops?”

J: (beaming with enthusiastic curled-corner-lipped sarcasm) “Fantastic! It’s almost exactly the same as your Mediterranean Summer Salad with Feta and Shrimp, but this one instead has scallops, and is shrimpless.”

W: (with oblivious sincerity or stark theatrical brilliance) “Why I’m happy you’re enjoying it sir, and I apologize that we couldn’t have accommodated your preferences on The Mediterranean Summer Salad with Feta and Shrimp, but I will most definitely inform the chef of how much you’ve enjoyed this one!”

J: ­čś│

Addio!

What is it I cannot say?

A clock’s resounding shrill
squeals away,
urging:
“all feet planted on the floor”
toward a car, a train, a bus
a door
pulling people-conveyors, travellators
an airbus breaks tentatively
free from terra firma
winging equivocally, launches in flight
unspoken sadness, a hungry goodbye:
Arrivederci!
…Roma

Lingering…
sweet and tender longing
for its sumptuous, red-blooded
eternal, Latin soul
seizing the time to live, lustily
amidst ancient, sculpted
marble proboscises
veined with pulsating, robust
Roman virility
prolific, sentient
chiseled-granite silhouettes
hewn nimbly
with singularly deferential
artistic humility
shimmering all shapelessly
in a creamy vanilla sheen
of light-emitting diodes and a full moon’s bullish rising

Like a languishing
Federico F film
steamy summer nights
mirror,
flicker,
and roll foggily
on Tevere’s rippleless, rushing
black waters
tacit coy voracities
lie barely, just beneath
seductive, full-lipped smiles
untill we meet again:
good riddance!
I will miss you…
all the while
one meteoric moment mutually possessed
forever
and never
again, and again

Addio!