and so it ends
sitting on a balcony
with a glass of red wine
watching the waves come in
the Bay of Salerno
it’s cool up here
my jacket draped over
my bare chest
soon I’ll shower
get dressed
walk five minutes to the train station
get on the express to Naples
the airport
back to Istanbul
I’m still, will be a long way
from home
from people my friends
but in life there are things
we cannot change
easily
and sometimes
not at all
Italy
Salerno, November 17, 2013
my great grandfather
and his family
and their fathers and mothers before them
walked these streets
had espresso in these cafes
prayed in this church
to San Cono
their patron saint
my grandfather Giuseppe Michele D’Elia
left this village
a municipality of Salerno
at twelve
to venture forth to America
Mulberry Street precisely
in Little Italy, lower Manhattan
then to Sheepshead Bay, Brooklyn
eventually to Flatbush
where in his house he would die
many years later
and I his second oldest grandson
carrying his name in the middle of mine
retrace his steps
eat broccoli rabe
pasta with panchetta
drink red wine
watch the world go by
in this city he never returned to
but I’m here, grandpa
I’m here for you, for me
a homecoming
Of sorts
the face of Italy
so I see this cannoli in the window
and instantly think of my grandmother
saying something in half Italian half English
about desserts and espresso
so I buy the pastry to eat while walking
and the kid selling it to me says
you have the face of Italy
which probably explains why people keep stopping me
to ask for directions
there’s the same shrug of the shoulders
the same sad eyes in a smiling face
in the people on the street
and for dinner
it’s linguine with baby clams
sausage and broccoli rabe
homemade red wine in a ceramic jug
water with gas
and I’m home
Naples
I’m home
Leonard Durso 