by Nancy Byrne Iannucci He took me to Rome’s 13th rione.Wisteria extended its weathered armslike the candles that dripped onto my birthday cake.We walked and walked the ancient streetsin light, wine-blurry rain. Foggy questions mist-ified my mindas we sat to rest at Piazza Santa Maria.You should see it at night. Bellissimo.I spoke my Neapolitan Italianas Continue reading