Tuesday, May 31, 2016

l'uomo dell'autobus

I know the many corners
And closets
And hallways
Of your story
How you wooed your wife
At the lago
Picking strawberries
How you puffed with pleasure
For not one
But two
Handsome sons
All your stories dripped
Of Imperial Pride
That blood
Still alive in your body
You spoke of Dante
And I lied
When I returned
Your book, too foreign for my soul
The first time I saw your knife
I was almost
Almost afraid
But boredom will be put to use
I think I was your equal
There without shelter
There unwelcome
Waiting for salvation from a hard-day's work
Sometimes you looked
With desire
But old desire
Less for me than for you
I know that without you
I felt exposed
To the elements
To the hungry traffic
I know that in your absence
I stood
With Fear
My other, faithful Companion
I know that I clenched my ticket
Soaked of sweat
Hoping to free it
From my shaking hands
And I know that one day I will pass our spot
Maybe you'll be there
Maybe not
But I will see you, chewing grass
Though I won't call to you
I couldn't
Three years
And I never knew your name.

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