Driven to this, the pairs of lovers roll
into the parking lot like shaken dice,
and though they’ve come expressly for a vista
much grander than themselves, begin to fuse
into the other’s eyes. Oh, that fond conviction
of a match made in Heaven!
Below them, at the base
of an ancient hill, the million lamps of Rome
light up in rosy approbation, each
signalling to one chose counterpart
among the stars the nightly freshened wish
to lie uniquely in its dazzled gaze.
— Mary Jo Salter