The women in my life are meteors: they enter, they shine, they disappear. A poem by the Magnifico, a confession, and writing as an antidote to death.
Meteors
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Blue Tornado: the Right Tornado at the Wrong Time
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SUMMER 2023. I’d like to kiss her. But I haven’t washed for a week, except with seawater. I’m sweaty from dragging the huge suitcase I used on the sailboat under the sun. I had onions for lunch. In short, I’m in the worst condition to kiss her. I’ve just entered the hotel room. She’s there, buzzing around the private pool of my room, swaying her hips, swinging...
