At the sea wall
people write on the rock face
leaving their initials
near Julia on the beach.
A row of cabanas, barking dogs,
beach palms and cactus,
spilling bougainvillea all
along the railroad tracks.
On the cliffs of Corneglia
we leave our friends,
the clocktower with its
halloween face.
Orange and black with
whiskers for hours and minutes.
We have come to a perfect
resting place.
Like little sparrow,
il padrone and his wife
are closing the window
the father taking his boy
in hand with school books
to catch the next train
to Vernazza where he will
learn to speak perfect English.