Post #30

Spirit of Napoli / A seagull, hard at work, Picking apart the rotten Carcass of a pigeon. Do as the Romans When in Rome – But when in Naples, Don’t look down. Or up – the buildings Of this town’s majestic past Just make things worse By burying the “could have been” In “has been”. The first graffito (Of twelve thousand) That I saw, arriving here by train Read: “DEATH TO CAMORRA”. Five days in I can’t agree more, Maybe even go beyond The humble statement: It is not the mafia alone – The city as a whole Seems to be asking For another blast From its two-headed Mountain (in the eyes Of a trespasser, like myself) But people fill its streets. They shoot about On scooters, like so many Plastic herrings, Scurrying around The sharks of its Fiats. They sit at open tables Of cafes on permagarbage sidewalks, kiss on benches Next to barricades of trash. They walk around in miniskirts And shorts, Displaying godly tans – Or beastly paunches. (And, I suppose, by night They tag the shutters Of these stores.) And hark: They SING when begging For a coin. And they look happy. And they make me think Of all that I have lost Over the years of living In those other cities – Where the past is a prelude (And not an admonition). Where you wouldn’t think Of washing shoes Together with your hands, Returning home, Where poems don’t start With carcasses of pigeons, Where the dark side Tries to hide And where the underworld Has less successful branding… Standing in these streets, I see humanity’s revolting ways And its redeeming joys Of feeling happy and alive Despite whatever garbage Gods allot you. @verse