IN-A-GADDA-DE-DOLCE-VITA March 20, 2015Posted by The Typist in cryptical envelopment, New Orleans, The Narrative, The Pointless, The Typist, Toulouse Street.
Tags: La Dolce Vida, Marcello Mastroianni, T.G.I.F.
It is Friday. Innocence is not an option.
I hear the singing of the undertow
where the anxious waves come and go.
I watch it greedily leach
away the sand beneath
Fellini’s beached monster.
The tide has drowned the beach.
The cafe angel waves. I cannot reach
her distant innocence from here.
I turn my back on the fantastic
and light another cigarette.