Thick is the air in the American Bar
to the east of the Grand Hotel Orologica
that rests unkempt in the Palm Desert
of Albano, Italy.
Rays reach through wet cotton clouds
and she wonders what great celebrations
were toasted in the aging stucco of the grand
now shuttered palace.
A balcony where once a lover stood
and likely a heart was left to perch.
Just a bit away sits the pensive Calcio Padova
Young, strong, scared, and guided
by a pacing leader who just years ago pounded
foot upon the mound,
and now hopes to raise a ten ranked team to victory
against a number one.
An old man in Padova red bends over to pet a white puppy
led by a boy in Brescia blue, whose mother looks to be an Italian
But then, they all do after all,
and together they cheerily greet a barrel chested patriarch
all tails wagging.
And a writer rolls a large green olive between her teeth.
Careful not to crack her crowns on its solid pit.
While everyone around her chants in Italian
and she listens to the lyrics of an English song
playing on their sound system.
I got you babe.