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.
