I am having trouble keeping up with my ears. They go faster than my mind’s able to steer in the tunnels we take. Yellow lights, road’s segmented while lines. Quick and fast hollows we make. Under the ground, clouds cover out tracks. From Casori, quindici amici (ah-me-chi, fifteen friends) lost amongst pink and black. All follow different paths; back. Grappa laden, it help digestion, smoke and four hours of food. The party has a mood, simile a full moon. Tranquillo; “Slow Food”. Take your time and have some wine, vino rosso, bianca, spumate are all fine. Wash it down; never a frown. Hashish spins us around, Chiavari’s the home town. Safe and sound through all check points; bigletto and tears Kiara; please have no fears pushed through Mozta and Maximo’s hospitality arriving home; Livorno nine and forty-three Australians take care of me. We all shall see; Bald Eagles our my sleep; Dreams lucid with color and adrenaline complete. Bye, by Abstract King.
“Ligurian Coast”
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