Here In Verona

you blow me kisses from Juliet's balacony as if you were the real thing. Suddenly we're Shakespearean & the play's the thing. 'Oh Donall Donall... ...wherefore art thou... Donall! ' I kneel before her statue her left breast all shiny rubbed for luck by touchy touristy hands and loud guffaws! Here in Verona amongst its ancient amphitheatre I sing mock opera and 'La Travitia.' 'Come...do the Christian thing & throw me to your loins! ' You run. Your laughter echoing amongst ruins and long gone times. That summer (there in Verona) Juliet & Travita were real and alive yet it is we now who have become fictional characters our love now only a story a thing of mere memory. 'Oh Anu...Anu... wherefore art thou...Anu! '