Elegy for Il Primoli

O! Il Primoli, restaurant of restaurants, hidden gem of Rome!

How you greeted us with a complimentary glass of prosecco,
How you always seated us in the same booth,
With the photograph
Of the strange man,

Your yellow walls were warm and invited us away from the crowds
Warm was your pasta, heavy with cream and mushrooms,
or tomatoes,
or shellfish.

We laughed gently at your poorly translated English menu,
As children at an elegant older woman
who has forgotten
one curler.

But we swooned at your meats, your lamb and veal,
Carpaccio succulent and sliced so thin,
we could probably
read through it.

Zabaglione, frothy yellow and sweet, spread over
Delicate puff pastry, with wild strawberries
bursting tart-sweet
in our mouths

Sad are we at your passing, for we should have liked
To dine with you, one last time.

O Il Primoli
You shall always be
Il Primo to me.