Rather than being inspired by a reading, I decided to rework the "a place in Spoleto calisthenic" we received last class because I was disappointed in the result I got.
La piazza Girabaldi--where the low hang of caffe clutches the passing spin of exhaust. Le machine, ballerinas in arabesque, twist on their tires, hit the sharp corner and bound in a spin of wheels. We discover safety at a patio table near the Gelateria and tongue a sound much like the soft mumble of a gelato spoon scraping a cup--that small shovel digging for pleasure. We mouth Italian words, try to imitate the twirl and lull around us. Mi chaimo...di dove sei... Here, no one notices us--no one stares or wonders, cares what we whisper across the table, "sono Americano." A fat fly dunks into a splatter of fragola, drinks the creamy beads before lift off, wavers--a hefty bob around the maze of chairs and tables topped with espresso cups and napkin balls. Your fingers work the curtain of your forehead, smoothes, crinkles, bubbles up a slight groan. Why did we come here anyway? The art of the tongue, the taste of something foreign is so hard to detect as it begins in your mouth. He dives, perhaps loses control, and scrapes his wings on the wisps of your brunnette neckline. Traipses, recovers, then dodges as your hand nearly finds him there. You sigh, no longer caring for speech, instead your hand brushes where the fly once was, scraping the fading traces of Italy from your neck.
I enjoy the use of microcosm here, the examination of something as mundane and ubiquitous as a fly to frame the "fading traces of Italy," and I find myself questioning, why fading traces? How is it that Italy can fade upon as even as we sit inside it, drink its water, eat its gelato? This, I think, is the question at the beginning of your foray into this exercise.
ReplyDeleteAnd what about this difficulty in detecting something foreign, even as the taste begins in your mouth? This seems like a way in, to me. Is this something we do ourselves, consciously, or do we block the foreign even as we are immersed in it out of the need to preserve of a sense of self? I want to know why--I'm reading it right now as a sort of defense mechanism, but I think that might be too easy. I think you might be able to spin it, as talented as a writer as you are, into something more interesting and revelatory.
In any case, keep the fly. He (or she!) is what draws the eye and pulls the mind along here, I think. Great work.