Tunneling my way through Tuscany’s
fields of freshly cut rolls of golden wheat
rows of corn and flocks of sheep

passing by my open window
on the second class train from Milano
to Orvieto where I rendezvous with Benito’s

forlorn spirit in his family’s former villa
in the Umbrian countryside where lady Lisa
lives with her big black dog and cats

wearing her short skirts and leather boots
as she tells me about her life and loves
At midnight I slumber in the basement

on a king size bed with Madonna smiling
down on me from the ledge on the stone wall
as random demons creep into my sleep

How was I to know that she is tormented
by demons from her childhood in foster homes
or that her prince charming is a pathetic drunk

We visit him in his hilltop castle in Giovi—
After downing mussels and white wine
I celebrate Festival il Sole la Luna in the village

while she and her lover embrace in the shadows
I dig the magic of Moroccan drums and guitar
performed in the glow of the cathedral square

When I return after midnight she rushes down
to meet me her tears and blood flowing
like vintage wine onto the stone stairway

where romance is scattered with the broken glass—
Ignoring my advice she returns to her fate
and in the midnight hour i ride home alone

*Benito Mussolini Italian Fascist dictator