The writings of two of my fellow bloggers prompted me to resurrect this poem I wrote, “A Dark and Handsome Italian,” which was published sometime in the 1990’s in New Press Magazine. Foxsydee often writes fun, light-hearted posts, which I thoroughly enjoy. This poem, I hope, is fun and light-hearted (and very tongue-in-cheek.) Lezlee has been posting writings about her recent trip to Italy, one of my favourite countries and the place from where my family originates. So, ladies… this is for you both, with my thanks for blogging.

Oh- one more thing – the ‘dark and handsome Italian’ in the photo, is played by one of my sons, who’ll probably disown me for posting his photograph , especially in conjunction with this poem . (He’s nothing like the Italian in the poem. At least, in my mother’s heart, I hope he isn’t.) The shot of him was taken not in Italy, but in Greece, when they built the new ‘Metro.’

A Dark and Handsome Italian

——————–

Because he was

a dark and handsome Italian

and she was sipping caffé not ‘coffee’

in an outdoor trattoria that was SO

unlike ‘Denny’s,’ boasting red and green umbrellas

which read “ASTI CINZANO” in big white letters,

as he sauntered, not ‘sidled,’ up to her;

she did not deem it inelegant

when he perched, not ‘swooped,’ down beside her

and said, “Ciao, bay-bee” in an ACCENT.

Then, nary a glance to spare

at the lire she threw down

to pay for her caffé ,

he firmly grasped, not ‘groped,’ for her elbow.

And leading, not ‘propelling’ her away,

he said, “Vieni.”

So, come she did, not five metres further, nor

twenty minutes later, in a small side alley

off the – whaddayacallit? – ‘Via Vanilla?’

(she thinks that’s what he said)

And, because he was

a dark and handsome Italian,

not a nice Jewish man from Queens,

because he spoke, ‘La Lingua’

and didn’t know ‘no Brooklynese;’

because he left his shirt half-buttoned, so he could flaunt a little flesh,

because the crucifix displayed there made her somehow think of sex,

because his hair was just like the David’s

(styled purposely that way?)

what did it matter all the things she wished that he would say?

Because he was

a dark and handsome Italian

and not a “boring” boy from home,

she regarded it not as the tensing and flexing of

two people’s separate pelvic muscles, but… “Amore.’

Thank you for visiting my website: We have four winners in our contest there, so far and one, I’m told, is from my blogging friends. Brilliant! Their names will be posted when we have all five winners, so we need one more. Any takers?

Read and post comments | Send to a friend