I ncappo continuously in surrealistic attempt to escape his scent and then find myself nose to nose with him,
caress the tip of my fingers because the heat does not soften too much,
between lips and teeth feel smooth and soft complexion and I do consciously cross and sweet joy
love and hatred, and will not sell,
yet collapsed in front of my eyes the golden dress front of that tiny and powerful ingot:
the gianduiotto
(now say it was really necessary to give a bag trabordante?)
