A Letter Home
We get out of bed at nine and Helen makes coffee.
We sit on the balcony, read the newspaper, and watch
The boats in the harbor. Around eleven we get dressed
And go down to the little café next to the hotel.
Sometimes we order lunch, sometimes breakfast.
Afterwards, we rest for an hour or two in the heat,
Then work in the studio, with the window wide open.
We go shopping or tour the galleries till we’re beat.
On clear days, late in the afternoon, around four,
We like to go swimming. The swimming,
By the way, is okay but not great, the harbor
More than a little polluted. We drink a lot
Before dinner, I admit, too much, I know,
But it feels all right, after a couple of shots.
In the old town there’s a restaurant we love,
Where the owner knows us and makes us feel
At home. There’s music, and the people move
And dance. A black man plays the piano.
We’ve talked with him a few times.
He’s from Newark. His name is Adriano.
He’s been here awhile and never wants to leave.