Italian Sonnet

Not now la strada

     of corpuscles

di ronzio, diesel

     Vesuviuses

that punish their kind

per respirare.

My appetito brakes

    for tangent slice

off ancient beltway

    and scoots around

the Exxon

where machine guns “cured” Mussolini’s baldness. Stop hard

for this additional gift of news:

    Simon and Garfunkel are dead.