Florentine

Po crowds and their wrinkled affairs. I go there dressed like I'm waiting to boogie, then have a pleasant, expensive, and tasty dinner afterward. A friend found this photo on the nut, of a poetry reading taken some time in the 2015 fall, and sent it my way. Looking at it I remember I'd just scratched my ankle. Looking at it I think again how easily I'm made happy. The person at the lectern has said something. Everyone else has heard it. Who else is gulping air like a lake fish? Right on; I knew that you could.