three italians and a spaniard

night before they left     my keys      dug into beams
carved out amato four times            sat finishing the punch
this vision of christmas in wool   fat santa stretched across
his chest      poked my stomach  said winnie winnie
that creased him  cried now mr university will come find me
he say luigi      luigi you buy new beams
          the chair
unsteady     cut my name next to his   earlier the spaniard
had been throwing stones at her window          lara lara
he sang her name        me in her bed       her too
toned legs    ran everyday to the water tower    could have crushed me
lara lara he went on all night               I remembered his story
on the bank of the seine           a communist    his father
pushed de gaulle  or mitterrand   someone   into the river
never allowed into france again          how many
parts did he miss out on for that?      it worked out alright
ended up in an iberian confessions of a window cleaner
horny matador             randy conquistador    he was them all
now     the third italian wore too much make up
like some roman street whore byron might have knocked
and watching her take that paint off was          to watch
a woman undress         naked    she wasn't the same
more like the picture her sister took   in the south
she must have been sixteen    naked    so you saw nothing
she burst in      the spaniard was climbing up      calling calling
had woken her              drunk romeo   juliet's hand on my crotch
bursting in      she was shocked      going after her
santa pulled me into the kitchen         poured me punch
cried about his sweet shop in the mountains   next morning
they all left      for edinburgh  and I spent two weeks
playing black jack       drinking four euro bordeaux with the spaniard.