Dad

Look at you
pitiful little shit
bloated meat
son of a whore

In my time...

If there was such a time
when italians carried
little pocket pictures
of themselves
in horseskin wallets
and drank deep
their sweet
sparkly wines
staining their tight
chekered shorts

I was never there

Look at you
brown skinned whale
I’m disappointed
I’m not proud
I hate God
He commanded me
to be fruitful
and I sowed you

In my time...

If there was such a time
when italians
came down from mountains
and played football
In C Group Junior teams
and mourned
in tearless wailing
dead brothers
fuckers who couldn’t
drive for shit
ending up
filling wormy
stomachs with
teeth
blood
and motorcycle

I was never there

I do not remember
self taught italians
with a tooth fetish
taking expensive trips
to the caribbean
and infecting
little skinny wombs
of morenas

Your time
a neverending
cloud of smog
brazilian waitresses
and bad luck
it is not mine
I would never dare
to breathe such an epoch

I was never there, Astyages

I swear it
I swear it upon my last name