without a net

on our way training down
south of roma, south of napoli
the pearl of the med
to get sand in our shoes
a sleepy place with nothing going on
after three days we’ll be friends with the guy who drives the local bus to town where the pizza is good
we’ll be there
with no net, no kidding, and too cold to swim

but the hotel remembers us
not actually, of course, unless they have chips
this one doesn’t even have rice crispies
something for the kids of the future to look forward to
chips implanted in hotels so it remembers you
“Oh, not you again, you little...”

back in this time warp
we like carolina, she’s the polish worker
she will be the only one there
the old lady has something with the bones in her foot
can’t get shoes on and won’t be there
we’ll be the only guests
our terrace is large
right on the beach

nothing to do
a tv in the lobby, hardly on
only the lapping of the mediterranean
on and on, rolling back and forth
dragging rocks on the shore

space to read, write, draw and observe
then while walking the shore
looking far off, out to sea or toward the clouds
i’ll think of you