Disclaimer: I did this as a creative rewrite for one of my university lit courses, and all the inspiration and quotes belong to Robert Browning the original writer of "My Last Duchess"

HIS LAST DUCHESS
ARRIVEDERCI
“That’s my last Duchess painted on the wall,
Looking as if she were alive.” (I’m not)
Alas! Me, “a wonder.” He calls.
Now wretchedly refined and pasteurized.
To be consumed, now, for genteel eyes.
Pity! Should you ever see me roll mine.
Behind those curtains, you might have been surprised
To see my countenance whimpering
At you Sir; and seething, at Him.
Must you not be fooled by that sickly decorum
Upon which his manly pride resides.
The Duke—what rich talent in envy he has,
And of pithy idiosyncrasies! Pardon me now
As I speak of his infamies: Is it not,
Too preposterous of a Duke, to sulk
And take offense, over a blush?
(As if the blush was his to wield and shun.)
Am I not allowed to flush at all?
And must I be ashamed of being swooned
By the casual offers of life’s grandiosities?
Each and every, dropping of the daylight,
Ripen cherries in May and chivalrous gentlemen,
my dear white mule; must I then weep
at them all, only to prove my fancy for him.
And when does gracious gratitude itself
become in vain: a finite honour—
deemed excessive elsewhere?
Never had he plucked me out, for censure,
Before he gave commands, I knew he did
To pluck the smile out of my face.
Utterly clueless—he thought I was
To find myself throttled, for immodesty.
A wife, an appendage to a Duke,
Loosely felled, to stroke a green-eyed ego.
My fault it seems, is a mere generosity
Of affection: falsely opined, if not
Misread, to fare a defect of temperament,
A chronic malady, doth be cured by death.
To cement the farce he will, soon, bring you
Downstairs to meet a friend. (a fiend)
A prized possession: Neptune, taming a sea-horse.
His hubris incarnate, cast in bronze.
But you must know the truth, for the sea-horse
Did not perish for naught, she is freed from him
At last.

"Do you like wasabi peas?"

She hands me a small sage-green orb.

"It's hot, spicy," she says, nodding encouragingly. "Have you ever had wasabi?"

It tastes like horseradish and is not at all spicy in comparison to the chile-spiced mango I've been snacking on. I nod and smile to her approvingly.

Before I know it, she's handing me a chocolate sandwich cookie and without saying a word, going back to the duty of putting away the groceries. It's delicious.

Jivy, upbeat soul music blasts from an iPhone speaker dock. The kitchen faucet is running. Cabinets, the dish washer, opening and closing like a delicate rhythm.

He was building a fire pit outside, thick white smoke billowing up into the sky. But it started to pour a soft summer rain, as it had two or three times already that day. The world beyond the kitchen is grey, wet, happy. The shabby porch is used to being drenched in rain, the mason jars filled with dead cigarettes and the disarrayed furniture.

With more than one person in the narrow stretch of kitchen, it's a crowed party. I watch on from my chair in the breakfast nook. She chops vegetables on the counter for cold gazpacho soup.

She, in a delicate red rose skirt. The men except for me in cargo shorts.

I'm drinking flat Dr. Pepper from a painted mug, instead of something hard like I might want. The sip of black beer he gave me tasted like soy sauce. It fizzled on the porch a bit.

"Oh, ****!" he said, putting his hand with the overflowing beer out the door while standing partly inside.

/

Asking the cook for permission, he sits down across from me and begins to sing a song on a guitar. A sad song, one that he's played before. Maybe the only one he knows.

I sit in my chair and watch it all go by. I take out a book from my bag to look like I want to read it. I'm really just sitting here, like a fly stuck tragically on the fly paper he hung in the kitchen two nights ago. Lying there all sprawled awkwardly, eyes open to what's around me.

He finishes the song. "Beautiful," she says, gathering papery remains of an onion and tossing them into a plastic bin. He strums another tune. His voice is untrained and not hard to listen to if not a tad syrupy and self-aware. A bit like the way he carries his wide personality.

He answers questions from across the room, interrupting the melody for a few seconds now and then. The two men are on separate wavelengths. But the singer didn't seem to mind being interrupted. They must have grown up with this dynamic, the men. It's a story they tell easily.

/

"Buongiorno!" she says, slicing a lemon.

"Hey, you have a nice accent. Arrivederci!" says the guitar-player.

"Arrivederci!" she responds, playing up the dialect with sweetness.

"Good deal." He says, striking up another tune. He puts on a different voice. Deeper, with more swing, like a caricature country-western singer. His voice fills the space.

Our mugs are gathered all together, mixed up in a menagerie of colors and shapes at the end of the kitchen counter. I brought several of mine from home and they mingle with the others unnoticeably. Multi-colored ones from Poland. Mine, purchased at various thrift stores. All of them stacked awkwardly and happy.

He asks me if I want to share a smoke on the wet porch. I say "Not right now. Maybe later, though."

it's soaring through flaming green hills
your heart races with the curiosity of discovery
it's dancing on a secluded mountaintop
with the drunken energy of a motorino zipping.
it's the endless time spent laughing
lips tingling with wine and philosophy
furiously awaiting l'autobus
and saying basta to the pasta.
the hazelnut aroma of hot cappuccini,
and suddenly you have the bravery
to get lost alle tre in Trestevere.
it's watching sunrays part mountains and Corinthian columns
and sparkling on salty waters
and you inch toward the edges of cliffs
just to catch a glimpse.
it's the comfort of friends and Nutella
when Ryanair lands and Rome becomes Home
and life, and death, and carbs follow you.
it's the homeless and the hungry
sleeping in the strong arms of St. Peter
and disappointment and shame
consumes you.
it's sobbing when you are alone,
foreign, and strange
and sobbing when it's time to say
arrivederci
it's when you fall, your stupid heel caught between cobblestones
that you realize you're in love.

For Denis Joe*

Alas, poor Pluto
I knew him slightly
Dangling out there
On the sun system's edge
Unsung by Holst
Who knew him not at all.

Furl browed tribunes smack their gavels
And in a nano - second
Planetary glory dashed to asteroids.
Mighty Pluto busted to dwarfhood!

[Brief moment of silence]

Well, the dwarves will have to have
Their own music now -
Nothing Earth shattering
like THE PLANETS.
A humbler essay, say a trio
For tuba, autoharp and cello.
Modest but catchy tunes
For little orbiters and shakers:

XENA (warrior princess)
CERES (goddess of grain)
PLUTO (mythical silver smith)
CHARON (underworld boat jockey)

Oops, almost missed the big send off.
There he goes now with Charon at the oars.

          Arrivederci

                little

           ­           fellow.

                              SNIFF!

A man on the cusp of One Hundred
found letters that proved beyond doubt
that Rosa, his bride since his twenties,
in the 40’s had “catted” about.
Some German had tickled her fancy
and perhaps a bit more its believed.
The statute of limitations doesn’t apply
when an Italian husband’s aggrieved.
Did he stop to think of the children?
They’re at such an impressionable age.
They may go and spend
their whole pension on drugs,
join a gang, or go out and get laid.
Antonio’s mad at his Rosa
He’s just about called her a *****.
It matters not to him that her transgression
dates back to the second world war.
We don’t know what he read in the letters-
Perhaps his whole life’s been a lie-
but as he is on the cusp of one hundred
why not wait for the children to die?




In Italy, a 99 year old man has divorced his wife aged 96  for a affair she had with a German officer in 1942
He found their letters in a drawer.  No he not longer has to wonder why his oldest boy was named " Fritz"

I spent my early life
Looking out from behind
The chain link fence on the turkey farm

There they fed me right
Fattened up my thighs
After all, what could be the harm

If it was up to me
I would never leave
It's where I prefer to spend my years

But alas will come the day
When all good turkey's have to say
Arrivederci...I am outta here

          I was born to be a Butter Ball
          Unlike those sloppy pigs that live next door
          To be a tender turkey is my call
          And all you want to do is eat me
          Yes, you wanna eat me

They just took Turkey Jack
To the shed out back
Where we never heard from him again

Just like yesterday
With my friend Turkey Dave
Strange they haven't messed with Turkey Slim

Am I the next in line
Could this here be my time
My head placed on the chopping block

As I say my goodbyes
To all the gals and guys
I gobble to Mary Lou as an after thought

          I was born to be a Butter Ball
          So delicious they're coming back for more
          Tenderized to the very core
          All they want to do is eat me
          
          I was born to be a Butter Ball
          A slap in the face to the Honey Ham
          To be a tinder turkey is my call
          Heavy on the gravy with a side of yams

Now that you know my tale
I hope I told it well
Enjoy this day with your family and your friends

So remember then
Don't leave the stuffing in
And dinner will go the way that it was planned

          I was born to be a Butter Ball
          The highest honor of them all
          Into the open oven I must fall
          Cause all you want to do is eat me
          Yes, all you wanna do is eat me

I spent my early life
Looking out from behind
The chain link fence on the turkey farm

There they fed me right
Fattened up my thighs
After all, what could be the harm

If it was up to me
I would never leave
It's where I prefer to spend my years

But alas will come the day
When all good turkey's have to say
Arrivederci...I am outta here

          I was born to be a Butter Ball
          Unlike those sloppy pigs that live next door
          To be a tender turkey is my call
          And all you want to do is eat me
          Yes, you wanna eat me

They just took Turkey Jack
To the shed out back
Where we never heard from him again

Just like yesterday
With my friend Turkey Dave
Strange they haven't messed with Turkey Slim

Am I the next in line
Could this here be my time
My head placed on the chopping block

As I say my goodbyes
To all the gals and guys
I gobble to Mary Lou as an after thought

          I was born to be a Butter Ball
          So delicious they're coming back for more
          Tenderized to the very core
          All they want to do is eat me
          
          I was born to be a Butter Ball
          A slap in the face to the Honey Ham
          To be a tinder turkey is my call
          Heavy on the gravy with a side of yams

Now that you know my tale
I hope I told it well
Enjoy this day with your family and your friends

So remember then
Don't leave the stuffing in
And dinner will go the way that it was planned

          I was born to be a Butter Ball
          The highest honor of them all
          Into the open oven I must fall
          Cause all you want to do is eat me
          *Yes, all you wanna do is eat me

Through blurry dreams of vivid ebony.
Of crimson red that escape my mem’ry.
The old hand of time has taken its toll,
In a world of dreams that wish to console.

With the passing of a clandestine star,
Whose dazzling silver lights just seem too far.
The transcendence of a thousand comets,
Are as beautiful as a sun that sets.

Overhead, a deep and calming sky blue,
A sign of life that shall now breathe anew.
Outcast and in exile, the vagrant weeps,
A soft silent whisper as Zephyr sleeps.

For stars that age, that once shone so brightly,
Dimming grandeur though ever so slightly.
Woe to he, lost in this sad serenade,
Her beautiful face, her pitiful shade.

I spent my early life
Looking out from behind
The chain link fence on the turkey farm

There they fed me right
Fattened up my thighs
After all, what could be the harm

If it was up to me
I would never leave
It's where I prefer to spend my years

But alas will come the day
When all good turkey's have to say
Arrivederci...I am outta here

          I was born to be a Butter Ball
          Unlike those sloppy pigs that live next door
          To be a tender turkey is my call
          And all you want to do is eat me
          Yes, you wanna eat me

They just took Turkey Jack
To the shed out back
Where we never heard from him again

Just like yesterday
With my friend Turkey Dave
Strange they haven't messed with Turkey Slim

Am I the next in line
Could this here be my time
My head placed on the chopping block

As I say my goodbyes
To all the gals and guys
I gobble to Mary Lou as an after thought

          I was born to be a Butter Ball
          So delicious they're coming back for more
          Tenderized to the very core
          All they want to do is eat me
          
          I was born to be a Butter Ball
          A slap in the face to the Honey Ham
          To be a tinder turkey is my call
          Heavy on the gravy with a side of yams

Now that you know my tale
I hope I told it well
Enjoy this day with your family and your friends

So remember then
Don't leave the stuffing in
And dinner will go the way that it was planned

          I was born to be a Butter Ball
          The highest honor of them all
          Into the open oven I must fall
          Cause all you want to do is eat me
          Yes, all you wanna do is eat me

I spent my early life
Looking out from behind
The chain link fence on the turkey farm

There they fed me right
Fattened up my thighs
After all, what could be the harm

If it was up to me
I would never leave
It's where I prefer to spend my years

But alas will come the day
When all good turkey's have to say
Arrivederci...I am outta here

          I was born to be a Butter Ball
          Unlike those sloppy pigs that live next door
          To be a tender turkey is my call
          And all you want to do is eat me
          Yes, you wanna eat me

They just took Turkey Jack
To the shed out back
Where we never heard from him again

Just like yesterday
With my friend Turkey Dave
Strange they haven't messed with Turkey Slim

Am I the next in line
Could this here be my time
My head placed on the chopping block

As I say my goodbyes
To all the gals and guys
I gobble to Mary Lou as an after thought

          I was born to be a Butter Ball
          So delicious they're coming back for more
          Tenderized to the very core
          All they want to do is eat me
          
          I was born to be a Butter Ball
          A slap in the face to the Honey Ham
          To be a tinder turkey is my call
          Heavy on the gravy with a side of yams

Now that you know my tale
I hope I told it well
Enjoy this day with your family and your friends

So remember then
Don't leave the stuffing in
And dinner will go the way that it was planned

          *I was born to be a Butter Ball
          The highest honor of them all
          Into the open oven I must fall
          Cause all you want to do is eat me
          Yes, all you wanna do is eat me

”Well, my friends are gone and my hair is grey
I ache in the places where I used to play
And I'm crazy for love but I'm not comin' on.
I'm just payin' my rent every day in the Tower of Song”

Leonard Cohen lyric from The Tower of Song


§§§

this lyric hits, it’s a ten fingered cheeky ****** marking,
fits like a new white t-shirt, clean~perfect in every aspect,
I’ve just changed song to poetry, so nobody’s complaining

axiomatic, slept less a than three shambolic hours last nite,
don’t ask what I was doing or even a simple why, even the
vultures grew tired, helplessly hoping for solutions to start appearing

water pressure ok, poem spigot strong but the words desiccated,
it’s time to revisit roots, back to where I’ve come-begun, bury losses,
seek no consideration, write in isolation, a-quiet niche, a shhh! beach

my silent reverie owns me and the angels, biggest fans, just can’t
get enough, know their faith is strong, never proofing reads required,
content to wait till find my lost chords, comforts of only fresh truths

so arrivederci, until we meet again, when cadences have resumed,
rolling in unbroken, won’t need other’s words recirculating my blood,
till my slip sliding over, direction from arrows stabbing new openings

rented a storage unit in nearby woods, empty shelves greet ya with a
‘ready, willing, and able,’  many open arms looking for fulfilling, a job, that don’t even pay minimum wage, but the benefits are just fan-tastic

So:
should you spot a man ungainly wrought,
weighted down by a harpoon cross, resting,
‘pon on his cursed Cain-marked back, fingertips,
you need not move to the other side, or hide,
'tis only a make-believe poet, no longer believing,
with his recording device, seizing your rhapsodies
to rhyme with his own collected artifacts, your crinkly
smiles are his meat, his metier, his chosen career,
to be again a comfort caresser of your illusions into
a shapely sculpture of words be-loved, keeping-worthy,
tokens of a reexamined self worth, a new girth, leaner,
a celebration for the keeping, dug up with pail and shovel,
a best left hid on his treasured island, in a treasure chest, only his new-no-good-best-most-satisfying-new-no-good-best-mystifying-sati­sfying-cursing-muses-who-got-two-knee-on-my-soul-I’m-
howling...
­
Monday Jun 1, 2020

She beckons me to return
Something changed when the words work to live became a mantra
Celebrating friends and family with a joy never known before
Just because and a dolce vita state of mind
You enjoy and take out the good stemware and stuff for special occasions every day
You make every moment a holiday because indeed it is a gift to be here and enjoy
That is the reason
So until we meet again dear lovely cities
Your art and culture never stop filling my cup
Firenze look for me
Venezia your magic fills the air
Italy with a style and colors of its own
A tutto c'e' rimecho fuorche la morta
Arrivederci alla prossimo


C@rainbowchaser2021

Dormi bene my dearest friend.
Your journey was long and you are weary.
Dormi bene, Nana, you deserve the rest.
I’ll watch over the flock; to them I will tend.

Fly to the horizon and do not look back.
Now is your time to see peaks and summits.
Drift away in the warmest, deepest seas,
Traverse the wildest, rockiest track.

Your body can’t hold you; your soul is free.
Your beautiful, worldly, universal soul.
Take it to be with the love you have missed.
And give him the longest hug from me.

Nessa dorma. It escapes me.
It’s easier to love you than to miss you.
For you;
I’ll learn to do both, in sweet harmony.

arrivederci alla luce del giorno
perché saremo insieme
nella notte
riuniti eternamente
nei sogni e nei bei ricordi

My love, always.

Whatever language
you choose climate won't change so
goodbye amigo

                                     Kelly McManus

I spent my early life
Looking out from behind
The chain link fence on the turkey farm

There they fed me right
Fattened up my thighs
After all, what could be the harm

If it was up to me
I would never leave
It's where I prefer to spend my years

But alas will come the day
When all good turkey's have to say
Arrivederci...I am outta here

          I was born to be a Butter Ball
          Unlike those sloppy pigs that live next door
          To be a tender turkey is my call
          And all you want to do is eat me
          Yes, you wanna eat me

They just took Turkey Jack
To the shed out back
Where we never heard from him again

Just like yesterday
With my friend Turkey Dave
Strange they haven't messed with Turkey Slim

Am I the next in line
Could this here be my time
My head placed on the chopping block

As I say my goodbyes
To all the gals and guys
I gobble to Mary Lou as an after thought

          I was born to be a Butter Ball
          So delicious they're coming back for more
          Tenderized to the very core
          All they want to do is eat me
          
          I was born to be a Butter Ball
          A slap in the face to the Honey Ham
          To be a tinder turkey is my call
          Heavy on the gravy with a side of yams

Now that you know my tale
I hope I told it well
Enjoy this day with your family and your friends

So remember then
Don't leave the stuffing in
And dinner will go the way that it was planned

          I was born to be a Butter Ball
          The highest honor of them all
          Into the open oven I must fall
          Cause all you want to do is eat me
          Yes, all you wanna do is eat me

The leaky dam looks fine from here.
Just— stand right there.
Can you believe, there've been thirty accidents
since last September.

Statistically, for this facility,
that's rather subdued.
Oh, ignore that light.  
It won't stop blinking,
so we're having it removed.

A hat is made from a heart.
The marrow becomes electricity.
Streaking red blood and bone.
It's Fortune's tenacity.

Well, so long. Arrivederci.
This ending was foretold
—quite early.