Licking Out Logarithm

Your Da sends you a picture, Of your camera, Post quake, what scale And I think of (though you haven't asked) sniffing the ravine's curve, diving into you on the Costeria Amalfitana, demain demons, Frizzante bottles In the fridge of a Rented room by a freddo sea as seagulls shit and scrounge. The discovered city's clitty, semi dry holy wine and cantucci, Che figa, the cissy chapel, the mortadella bella, lumache l'amore, the letto macchiato, meravigiosa meals In our hotel, And the headline hangovers that vanish in fume lava and ash As I eat gnocca for breakfast- the paper unread, coffee cold, the dog huffing, by the closed door.