| www.domist.net/eng literature - poems |
“What’s up?” you ask
I tell you I don’t know
maybe the leaves
or phthisic werewolves
more often killed by coughing
than by kennels.
You ask me if I’m fine?
Yes, I say to you, I’m old
but I’m all right.
I’m 47, but I fire away as if I was almost dead.
When I was young,
getting out of a car
I told a girl: “I’m gonna shoot myself one second”.
In sorrow you can just try to be funny
or nothing remains.
You ask if everything’s fine
and I say yes, sure, I’m still alive
Milan is not first in the ranking
my cock works pretty well
my Mom keeps smiling at me, still positive,
’cause I’ve got some good friends.
Then, there’s only the years that remain
and I don’t even need to make the effort
of counting them.