Gondolier adjusts his mustache,
Takes a mandolin. Around
I’m afraid of getting tangled
In the spider's web of sounds.
This is nuts! It's no gondola,
But the made of dreams and songs
Raft is carrying me no longer
In Venice but now at home!
My head spun from this chimera.
Mandolins and gondoliers
With consonant Russian swear
Words dance wilder tarantellas
I’m inside these awful motions
Of the awareness of being,
Where in the muddy waters
After rain my town melts.