JOHN TRAVOLTA

One night,

During a lingering

On the steps,

Of a Florentine church,

Piazza Santo Spirito,

A beanpole of a boy -

Tenax-haired, trendy-in-black,

Inquisitive faced -

Became inquisitive about me.

We lingered inquisitively,

feasting on sliced pizza made by…

Massimo!

The creepy inquisitive older motorcycle man.

You know,

The sort of man who revs too much…?

I was his younger babe who got away.

Anyway.

Ohhh! That sweet Beanpole,

Piero,

a budding actor,

His face a Visconti classic,

Went all Dolce Vita on me.

Eyes afire, spiky eyelashes aflutter,

He took my hand. Together forever in our meet-cute,

We giggle-ran across The Ponte-Vecchio,

Clattered up to

Santa Maria Novella

(Aka the train station)

And leapt aboard the last train to

VENICE!!!

This disarming boy

aspired to wow-woo me

On Dante Alighieri,

On Divina Commedias

And Infernos

And most especially

• Bella Francesca! -

On Paradiso!

Alas,

My intellect short-circuited,

Incapable of stretching

Beyond

John Travolta

in

Grease.