Valentina – an excerpt from “Amore”


Love with her was pure irrationality and perfection in one sweeping, sudden fury.

The lancia boat I was lying inside on my back teetered side-to-side, creaking like trees moving by the wind’s hand. I felt the ancient splinters vying for my salt-dried skin. The sea splashed over the side of the boat, tickling my limbs, reminding me with each tongue of water that I was amongst the rawness of the sea, which could take me at any moment in one swipe. The sea reminding me of my immortality instigated the memory of Valentina. I closed my eyes, seeing her petal silk lips whispering if love, if love, if love, over, and over again until our lips were inches apart, almost kissing. Almost. It almost happened. Then I saw her hands dousing creamy white lotion onto my skin. Her hands pined for my skin. But she had already faded into a memory, as if what happened between us occurred many years ago, when it was only days ago. There was still more of her I had yet to experience; I feared this, and yet it thrilled me at the same time. She lingered, waiting for me to take the next step. One part of me wanted her to disappear, but never too far away from reach.



People bore the dead earth. They sit on the tall chairs as they once did as children in their high chairs. What’s changed son? You didn’t get more interesting, did you.

Man in the pressured suit. He smiles as shiny as his hair. He worked on that hair a great deal, well a lifetime. Now he can talk about his hair and how he just did a business deal with so and so who used to own the Atlantic.


The bricks bleed. Stop laughing. When can I get out I can’t get out where am I it’s nothing it’s all shit it’s all classless nothing is better than the last I think I’ll always be searching for something beyond this–

“What are you stupid? It’s a business deal.”

The plebes. Gawk at that T.V. Judge everyone’s shape and face. You know best, don’t ya. Talk about that weatha. Eagle on the back of your sweatshirt. Get outta’ here.

“You’d never see those women in Hampton.”


“They put too much in it. Who dresses like that?”

Gawk at that young pair of women walking in just to try the ambience of bricks. Their hair is fake. So who cares?

The pair aren’t more interesting than you, so don’t worry. They sit with boxes of light blinding their faces. Something’s surely better than here.

Well, you’re right sweetie.

“The mortgage hasn’t cleared yet…so–” He places on his jacket that glows in the dark so he must be blue collar ain’t he?

Walk by in your checkered muted shirt. Glance at the pair who will never notice you.

“You must be doing homework on Abraham Lincoln.”

Try Thoreau. And no, this isn’t homework. Would He be seen here? Would he shake his head, or merely watch with amusement? WWTD?

The poor servant from Columbia, short like 5′ 2″, smiles polite to a fault, as if the pair of women were her own pained children, and apologizes for the unavailable brewskie

“No one was there.”

The one closest to the brinks continues to stare at the light box while the Columbian apologizes profusely, a lowly beggar.

“Thank you.”

The light box needs no thanks.

I actually don’t know where she’s from… maybe I should ask.

“Ten grand? Five million dollar royals taken away.”

“I’ll buy you anything you want to drink.”

“Ha–hahahah. Alright, I’ll see ya.”

“Cash me out.”

“I saw that new Tesla coming out.”

“I would’t get anything from them for five years.”

Thank you for the advice.