AT THE END OF
RUNWAY HAVEN
'You can't play games in Hell, there's just no
room to manuever.' That's the translated
inscription on this old Papal statue in the
Vatican Garden - at least as this crazy
old man was telling me, in a garbled
half-Italian, which I only only
pretended to fully understand.
-
How far along in this prescient world
does a body have to go before deciding
nothing's worth the fuss and matter?
But if we knew ahead of time all that,
then we wouldn't have to know.
I guess that's so.
-
Now, instead of playing with a mime,
I'm eating black pizza with olives at a
little stovetop shrine atop some hallway
with a stairway to the harbor - little
white boats are floating away on
a quite happy sea of blue.
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