Guarda Che Luna (Look At The Moon)

Fallen moon held prisoner in a puddle stabbed by a stiletto that click claks to the cruising car offering straight sex (& other various positions & passions) to its gesticulating occupant. The car leaves without her. She shifts gum from one side to the other blows & pops a bubble leaving the sticky mess upon her lips regurgitated to blow another. “A...cazza’n cullo! ” she shouts at the bitter cold. I attend the dying moon whispering the last rites of a half forgotten poem to its shattered reflection. Returning to my room I drink alone. Full moon in Milan wandering the heavens looming large now smiling in my little window. * Guarda che luna Look at the moon Guarda che mare Look at the sea Questa notte senza te on this night without you Vorei morire I don’t want to live