What is it I cannot say?

A clock’s resounding shrill
squeals away,
urging:
“all feet planted on the floor”
toward a car, a train, a bus
a door
pulling people-conveyors, travellators
an airbus breaks tentatively
free from terra firma
winging equivocally, launches in flight
unspoken sadness, a hungry goodbye:
Arrivederci!
…Roma

Lingering…
sweet and tender longing
for its sumptuous, red-blooded
eternal, Latin soul
seizing the time to live, lustily
amidst ancient, sculpted
marble proboscises
veined with pulsating, robust
Roman virility
prolific, sentient
chiseled-granite silhouettes
hewn nimbly
with singular artistic humility
shimmering all shapelessly
in a creamy vanilla sheen
of light-emitting diodes and a full moon’s bullish rising

Like a languishing
Federico F film
steamy summer nights
mirror,
flicker,
and roll foggily
on Tevere’s rippleless, rushing
black waters
tacit coy voracities
lie barely, just beneath
seductive, full-lipped smiles
untill we meet again:
good riddance!
I will miss you…
all the while
one meteoric moment mutually possessed
forever
and never
again, and again

Addio!