Monday, February 18, 2013

 
“Not So Super Mario”

The name hung on him
by the Irish woman,

also here to learn the new
series of switches.

He shunned her, a bitch,
pure and simple, who cut
all for even innocent takes.

During the Super Bowl frenzy
he wore a Baltimore jersey.

Only he and Group’s basic
“Drama Queen” did so.

From something this silly,
a bond formed and they,
despite warnings, dated.

She couldn’t fathom his
fascination for what she
called soccer. “Like ballet

with the Prima Ballerina
shrieking in pain over
a hangnail.” He explained

that what she further labeled
Academy Award! was similar

to her frequent protestations
for justice and equity.

Didn’t wash, so he gave up.
His attention seized,

anyway, by her performances
bordering on egregious. Such

disturbed others; he simply repeated
to her how lovely she was in everything. 


When it grows time to leave,
she floats following him, now

loses that idea quickly without
his really weighing in.

Back in Bolzano, how her emails flood!
Then hop, diminish, and stop.

Two old uncles visit. They have found
a bride for him. He thanks them, but de-
tails how such rituals have truly lost force

in such a cosmopolitan area. But
certainly they will meet!–out of
respect for their love and position.

The photo shows her to be pretty.
And reserved. That proves
the clincher finally.

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Comments:
Tear in my eye.
 
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