Firenze

The pavement under my feet
Is nothing like the rough cement of Chicago.
It’s smooth and lets both citizens and tourists glide across.
Shops align the twist and turns
With window displays that scream, “Come in!”
The flea markets face each other,
A war waiting to happen.
The aroma of pasta,
Pizza,
Gnocchi,
And espresso
Fill the air no matter where you are.
For once,
You’re surrounded by people who can pronounce
Versace,
Michelangelo,
And Leonardo correctly.
People here know that more than one cappuccino
Is cappuccini
And canoli is actually plural.
Buona giornata is told to everyone,
Even if they can tell you’re a tourist.
A replica of the David
Stares down at the streets,
Watching for pocket pickers.
It’s not home,
But it’s definitely a great vacation.