Vale Paradiso

Vale Paradiso The sea life is blueness caused by monotony Formica tables and dirty fingernails  as the ship wanders between water vales  climbing to the top of mountainous berg and sharply falling into a foamy brew  when the storm persists, knowing a small  mishap is fatal, there is nothing one can do, but hoping the end will be quick  In my ignorance, I look at the map that  shows the oceans, which appear to be endless will the ship ever reach Los Angeles  I think of Vale Paradiso, this cumbersome  will not make it that far Finally, she makes, any place will do, but what waits are bars and whores, not the peace longed for