I have been to Rome many times,
though not for some years.
I went to see an old lady in Balduina,
overlooking St Peter’s.
I saw little of the city, however,
spending much time in the kitchen,
listening to her talk
as she prepared the evening meal.
How she could talk.
“Sonny,” she would say,
“in your life you have suffered greatly.
But I have suffered infinitely.”
She cooked the best veal
I have ever eaten.
Infinite sorrow can taste pretty good.