London To Milan

An itty-bitty ditty from Italy

[To keep our friends updated as Kris and I traveled through Europe last summer (2022), I scribbled the highlights in verse, with the memories and schmemories still fresh. Typically on a train. In words quite plain. Before they wane or exit my brain.]

Up at the crack
Of a cell phone alarm
To the thuds and whumps
Of dumpsters dumped
As London discards
The jars and shards
Of yesterday's Britly secrets

In a swish and a swirl
We collect our rags
Inflate our bags
And scoot on down
Our Fulham stairs
Into cool morning air
A beautiful glare
A sunny blue suburb
And around the curb we go

Devour and guzzle
Delights to our muzzle
Then a walk to a train
Cuz there ain't no rain
We rocket into the sky again
And I'll tell you why
Oh London, you rascal
We must say goodbye
From way up high
Cuz we're off to the streets of Milan

A coastline appears
And upward it rears
A visual gift
The Dover Cliffs
The English Channel 
A bit of France
A cumulus dance
Of French-speaking clouds
Bonjour, bonjour

A descent to the Alps
With white on their scalps
We abide their wide divide
Of gleaming, dreaming peaks
Even brighter than spackle
A tectonic crackle
Jagged and upwardly thrust
Like a Brautigan picket fence
Then the green, the blue
The view, I knew
It's Italy!

Roof after roof
All tiled in orange
Scattered and sparse
Then all in a clump
And we're down with a thump
To another world
All blue and sunny
Where the people talk funny
Like Italians

We find the train
Cuz we're not insane
And stroll to our new abode
Where two new friends
From Vina del Mar
Meet us and greet us
We've all come so far
Our room too nice
The bath palatial
The balcony beckons
So cozy, we reckons
We ogle like owls
And howl

The evening hath cometh
So the Metro we taketh
Subterraneanly southward
To the square of the Duomo
And holy ravioli!
Does it rear so near
Ah-ooh-ah-ooh-ah-ooga
We dash away left
To the great Galleria
Into the corridors
Old and adored
To flit like hungry birds
Then a ristorante detour
A delectable score
That satiates our avian pangs

The next morning cometh
With sounds of the street
A womp and a whup
And spoons in a cup
Instant jo this instant
Per favore
Buongiorno, buongiorno!
We need to beat feet
To the roof of the Duomo
Two hundred steps steep
Climb, climb, climb
To view the sublime
Ah-ooga

Scurry back down
And don't be late
For Leo's old mastery
The Last Supper He ate
Painted with pigments
On a centuries-old wall
Blessed with his bliss
And miraculously missed
By the bombs

Thence on to the trolley
And a lift to the train
Cuz it's off to Monterosso
Of Cinque Terre fame
And lovely Manarola
The objective we'll claim
As the next fine leg of our journey

Next stop: Cinque Terre, Italy