The Book of Questions

Poet Pablo Neruda wrote THE BOOK OF QUESTIONS 1973. A reflection of all he had encountered is his well-traveled life. Travel, I think, raises more questions than provides answers.

And so silly, mundane, thinking too hard, not thinking hard enough...are my questions from being in Italy.

What does Rome on the indifferent Tiber
a river ignored by its people
rather than the pulsing mar
like all the rest of Italy's sea-faring tribe?

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Why marble floors
but no toilet seats?

Can anything taste better
than a warm plate of Carbonara
encircled in white pepper
at a wooden paneled cafe
surrounded by you three?

How did Bernini carve the fragile leaves
and emerging skin of bark
springing so life-like
from the young Daphne's body?

And the Apollo -
How to chisel his demanding hand squeezing
her marble flesh as his foot
- light, fluid - floats about to step forward
for three hundred years?

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How do you build a perfect dome? How?

What kind of poor parenting
or genetic defect
produced a Nero or Caligula?
And why didn't people
stop them?

Who did the plumbing for the Trevi fountain? Now
THERE'S a plumber!

Why can't I see light the way
Caravaggio sees
light? Cool, warm, sacred.

I shall begin warming my milk for my coffee
immediately when I return
home. Why not before?

Has any place paid as much attention to the
ceiling as Italy?
Even the crown moldings in our apartment
make me weep from their beauty!

CAN Venice be saved?

What has overcome my husband?
He has eaten Torrone and chestnuts
more than once,
Drunk wine
more than once,
worn a scarf elegantly knotted about his neck
repeatedly,
and wants ANOTHER, finally,
ceased to worry...much.
Can I prevent
a recovery?

Arcades and fields of cafe chairs
Waiters in crisp black suits
demitasse cups foaming
America - what will it take to make you wake up
and smell the coffee
never in a paper cup?

What kind of ego/confidence
made the Roman Forum?
The scale, the grandeur?
Is it belief in people?
Belief in power?
Belief that marble can solve problems?

Am I really planning to pack fresh green beans
and artichokes
and take them to Sorrento?

Do you ever adjust to
Italian girls - lashes down -
browsing your lissome son?
Italian boys, sliding their eyes
over your hipster, purple leather clad
daughter?

What is cozier than lunch on a train?

What a way
to expose yourself artistically:
carve something in marble
and allow people to walk about it, searching
for flaws from 360 degrees.
Could you take it?

How did they know to take shards of rock
melted, fused with other colored stone
poured, pulled into
a tinted goblet
complete with a magic ring?

Fresco?????

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How will these new ideas
fold into old ones?

Arrivederci Roma. When will I return?