Italy Isn'T So Little
The blonde went down
with not must resistance
shunning off a stressful afternoon
the scene played of society, high
as I peered at all the pretense
and pretend of an I want to be
better than you and me
old men with young jewelry
cradling arms and new cufflinks
with crosses that will never be blessed
but undressed with tightly shut eyes
Cubans smoked, killing air
drifting from an aging beat
chords crafted with ease
toes tapped on the edge of my seat
the moon peeks and says goodnight
the chair nods off unaccompanied
the grifters scrounge for a dollar
I stand up, it's time to go eat
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