by Alessandro Spinazzi

In the rainy dark of the evening
a film in black and white
except for a spectral
yellow
from the factories
walking with you
your small hand
hanging on
to my index finger
a well known scene
who knows where from
an old man, silent
strolling along
with a small kid
by his side
twittering questions
each one mirror
of the other
past and future
reflections
in a present
so beautiful
it hurts.

by Alessandro Spinazzi

Don’t worry
if your wife
doesn’t speak to you
anymore
and writes down
everyday
your sins
like a shopping list

or your kids
decided
you are a horrible father
so they can be
as idiot
as they wish

flags are many
and winds
may change

but
if the cat’ll
ever turn
his back
on you
then
and then only
you better start
thinking
it may be all
your fault.

by Alessandro Spinazzi

Welcoming you
back to the
emptiness
left
by your leaving

the only place
you can still call
home
i’m afraid.

by Alessandro Spinazzi

Every day
i wait for mail
from far away
messages without words
sometimes come to me
brought by the wind
by a bird
by an immovable tree
even an unpleasant
neighbour
now and again has a light
in his eyes
and opens up vulnerable
abysses
that speak
getting out of bed
in the morning
may seem like the beginning
of a catastrophe
but those whispers
in the dark
from an ancient incomprehensible
language
promise beautiful
things.