Everything Sounds Better In Italian

says Adam
though Sarah thinks
that means everything
sounds better in Italy:
water lapping at the boat
along the Grand Canal in Venice,
say, or (her choice) the
crunch of Nutter Butters
munched on hills outside of Rome.

She may be right – she almost always is.
Though I can’t say I like her taste in food
(she’s three — the age where what she eats
is one ingredient in many forms) she has a sense
of the aesthetic preternaturally advanced
and will arrange her plate
or playspace with intent so
everything is perfect and she knows
if even one peanut’s disturbed.
So, when I say
no, sweetie, what he means is
words sound better in Italian she
says of course,
‘cause everything is better over there.

From the dead white man in me:

Hi everyone,

I am working on an essay about death, absent parents, and poo. I will post it here when it's no longer soufflé-fragile. In the meantime, I will lurk, and comment, and post quotes like this one:

“Magazines that refuse unsolicited manuscripts strike me as lazy, incurious, self-assured, and self-important…. If I were a publisher, I wouldn’t want to put out a magazine that failed to examine everything that turned up.”
-- E.B. White

Penance

sweet Mary Louise
is down on her knees
confessing distresses
begging recompense
for how she's
maneuvered a tremendous cock
tease sentenced to eight (breathy)
prayers to Mary & three
rounds with the plastic beads

she isn't sorry that
is just a lie she licks
it past her lips swiveled
hips her every sentence reduced
priest in the booth
released atonement free

last day

benefit
from
a fit
upend

product or
the door
stop
with your
boot
strap
less
executive
boot
heel
on your
way
out
the door
no
counter
product
i
act
i've
been
counter
product
i've
been
less
executive
i've
been

a fit

product

That May Have Been The Buddha

When I next end
a fly’s life, I will think it
again.