Lorenzo Vantaggiato

As I picture a flow pf pictures

a beach I haven’t gone in years

comes right along,

suspended over a grey sea

I watch a group of friends.

Well, they used to be my friends.

Shooting back to 1986 and those overcast days

I am the wind revolving

around this glossy screen

wanting to break through this grid

of permanent thoughts

blocked I remain though

from touching games right by the water

throwing smiles at the air

looks at a half-sky

walking few steps on thin sand and then

back to imperceptible drops off splashing.

Have I gambled all of this

in exchange for a few words

on gleaming white paper,

or did Lady in Black decide

to throw one of her parties,

or was it rather Lady Luck

on a whim of squashing

crazy diamonds of perspective-changing light?

Who am I to decide

between Duran Duran and Alcazar,

senseless I am left

on this very verge of sanity.

A writing on a stone, cold cement:

time I’ve been lies bleeding

in frozen hands.

Play/repeat no longer makes sense.

Copyright 2002 by Lorenzo Vantaggiato