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Traveling With Old Friends
by Robert Riche

My friend Tony has tendered an invitation
to visit again at his villa in Italy.
How fondly I recall
those glorious nights when we dined
al fresco under the stars. Sadly,
time has overtaken this old dog.

I'll never know those pleasures again.
Henceforth, I'll look up companions
from earlier days -- Don Quixote
as he trots across the plains
of Spain questing for the incomparable
and elusive Dulcinea.

Or possibly Monsieur Flaubert,
rumbling with him en voiture
through the French countryside at eventide,
when the world of Provence forever glows
golden, and a beautiful doomed housewife
stands longingly in a doorway.

Should a touch of bravado overtake me,
I could join Signor Pirandello
on the stage of Teatro alla Scala
where six characters in search
of an author might see in me
the genius they've been waiting for.

And so, dear Tony I know will understand
when I decline his kind invitation. I'll miss
the robust vino tinto and robust conversation, too,
the candlelight flickering over the tabletop.
It'll be different now traveling with other old friends
Soon enough they'll drop me at the ultimate destination.

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