Today I got up at an ungodly hour

To be tested as an Italian teacher

For mostly blonde kids.

Silvia would teach me the drills.

In the car that would take us to the park

She started explaining everything.

Her accent felt like home.

-You are from Rome.

-Yes! 

-Well, I’m from Rome as well.

-What neighborhood?

-Balduina.

-Noooooo! Me too!

Our mothers are

Shopping in the same supermarket

Right now,

Evaluating chicken thighs

And the freshness of arugula,

While we sing silly songs

And get hugged by slightly neurotic,

Yet wonderful,

Five-year-olds,

My memories of home

Fading.