To Italy

That was his perfume
The whiff of air which just gushed passed
His scent
His every being wrapped up in a breath of air
My air intruded
Our every memory flashes by
Every morning goodbye kiss
Every evening serenade
Prada
Those damn Italians
Poisoning the world with love.

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6 thoughts on “To Italy

  1. Andy says:

    We’ve recently spoke about the power of scent haven’t we?
    I love those last two lines. Great way to end it.

  2. words4jp says:

    I I had smelled a scent like that, I would start sneezing. šŸ™‚

  3. Michael Fink says:

    I think the bitter humor you mention at the end fit perfectly, the whole thing has kind of a magic to it, when suddenly we see the card up the magician’s sleeve. I thoroughly enjoyed this breezy yet compelling take on Italy, and the passion that seems to pervade it. Thank you for this.

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