in Florence
i explained to a drunk Irish girl
that i was a "quiet" American
clearly amused
she gave me a hug and warned me against Scottish beer
in a wine haze
grabby Armenians
told me things i don't remember
in an incomprehensible mix of french/italian/english
(possibly even greek)
while melting outside the vatican
a tall italian tween poured frizzante
on my coconut gelato soaked hands
and smiled as i thoroughly mispronounced grazie mille
sometimes they called us bella
and sometimes
fat.loud.americans.
i prefer bella
ho molte monete in fontana di trevi
qualche giorno rinvierò a Roma e parlerò italiano
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