You only see men on this boat.
Blue, then white lines picturing both sides
Salt and time turned white into grey,
A trace, a dusty kind.
Twice a week it leaves Ancona
Facing the sea,
A kind one.
I’ve been here before, as a child
People, a childood smell
Shades, details of a memory.
Only I kept pictures
Giacomo skating in the garden
Elena’s beauty, too old for the child I was
Francesco, in healthy and quiet days
I’m wondering about the fear, now
The way it changed his eyes.
Is there something worse, in life ?
For a poet to loose his weapon
The most powerful one
Control on words,
On the trembling arm.
You only see men on this boat,
Dark and tired faces,
Hard work changed their body
As well as drinking does.
Violent is the speaking.
They, playing cards and laughing
I know, they wonder about me, a boy
A child man, alone
Lily and Bujar woke up late in the morning,
Road has been long and hard
I hope my company not
She’s kind and beautiful
He’s full of light, a dark kind of
Behind the balcan details of his face
I’ll go for a smoke, so I can
See you lying on my bed, only my shirt
To cover the skin and leave you reading
Joni Mitchell’s diaries.
I see something of myself in everyone
Sometimes I think
Living could be easier
If I could just see less of you all.