Ciao, Bella

Everything in Italian sounds
like sex, I thought,
on the beach
with my sunscreen melting
int my eyes, stinging
like hot tub water
when you first get in.
Luciano prattles on
to Giuseppe and their words roll
over my American
head and slide
down to my pelvis,
where they reverberate
like a Grappa buzz.
Cristal and Roberta laugh
and their breath smells
of pesto as they start to untie
their almost-there
glance around at
the Italian breasts,
their perkiness, their sun drenched
golden breasts exposed
so easily...
Annabella smiles at me
and she breathes sex
through her shiny white
Italian teeth the way
an American girl never could.

Jill McIntyre