The Adagio Piaggio



ADAGIO Piaggio.

ADAGIO Piaggio.

Where exactly have you roamed?


Past socialites misquoting, the

Bad prophecies off bathroom walls?


Through neighborhoods of Neuvéau-Riche, where

Dice are thrown ‘gainst storefront windows,

Boldly heralding "Help IS Wanted?"


Through Hemingway hamlets of Graying-Old-Men, and

Rotting-Old-Women, whom

Can't, off hand, recall the year?


THE Adagio Piaggio?

(Meticulous in recanting all its tales of ill-spent youth)...


...Of sea-side cliff cafes keeping vigil

Over coastal fishing ports, which

Long ago some hurricane forgot to blow away.


...Of being bought, of being rolled,

Of being loved, then

Being sold for what amounts to little more,

Than five or six or seven vodkas,

Chased by cigarettes.


BENEATH their amber A-Line wigs,

Girls with faces white, like Geishas,

Squint through gray and green-rinse eyes.


They cling to paper-white haired boys, who

Flail clenched fists with lacquered nails, who

Suck tobacco through their painted lips.


AS if they all were characters, from

Freaky South Bay discotheques.


As if they all were characters, from

St. Jude's Revelations.


As if they all were characters, from

Bobby Womac serenades.

As if, like George Benson, they were,

....Caught In A Masquerade....


PIAGGIO agreed, indeed,

That being bold is simple, when

There's no one else around.


.

© 2013. Three Doves Media, LLC.

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