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Italy Poem

Vittorio Carli

The minute I arrived in Milan I was serenaded by old Bon Jovi in the new airport.

Topo Gigio is dead: Topolino shot
him in the head.
Mickey Mouse will never die, and Disney is paying out the big bucks to reps to forever keep the copyright.

Taylor Swift ate the rotting flesh of Maria Callas and it tasted good!!!

Rome, the open city, is now closed. Bertolucci, Taviani and Olmi are dead.
Long live Jim Abrams, Jerry Bruckheimer and Michael Bay. Read about them all day every day on Twitter.

“No Mam, we don’t currently have any made in Italy films, you have to go to the big city for that, but there are plenty of seats for Transformers 12 .”

In Italy, the church signs say no dogs allowed, and in American schools the signs say no guns allowed.

We have dinner at the house of the nicest guy in the nicest family in town. He complains that there are too many immigrants from Syria, taking jobs and living off the government. He proclaims , “What is needed here is a little fascism,” which reminds me of home.

Super pope shirts. Pope posing with a dove post card (I actually bought one of those) Pope on a rope. Pope soap. The Vatican is cleaning up with the holy father memorabilia.

“Did you see that helicopter carrying the holy relic of St. Brigit? I hope you got a picture.”

In the Rome mall, I observe the unlikely couple. Anita Ekberg
is dancing with Ronald McDonald in front of the jealous Burger King (Marcello has been gone for months, and Ronald always leads.)
She rarely has it her way except when she orders beer with her hamburgers.

 

Filthy bathroom.
We are in a restaurant with no heat on a cold day and my cousin is getting a bad cold. Gullible American falls prey to Italian Hustlers. “Oh yes mam, every Italian restaurant bill includes a service and table fee and twenty percent tip is already included in the bill for your convenience.”

No gas comes out of the pump, but the owner cannot give a refund because the costumer does not have a receipt, and the owner knows that the gas dispenser with the auto pay never gives out receipts. “Let her go to the police if she wants to waste half a day.”

Bored Italian kids in a museum on a school trip dressed in made in China clothes to resemble their image of South-central California gangstas sit and spend most of their time texting,
laughing, and flirting and they hardly seem to notice the classic Italian art pieces. They have more important things on their minds.

Splish splash. Smash crash. “I just tripped and spilled my diet coke on the the Mona Lisa’s face, but I did not hurt myself, and I am sure it can be replaced. Insurance should cover it.”

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