Corso di progettazione del suono
(Frequenza bisettimanale)
Now that the magic has gone I drift around the Cinque Vie
every other archway hides a full-blown strip out
rubble cupped in unexpected space and light
heady scent of rustin negàa lethally mixed with moped No.5
and after an hour I end up at a table
where perhaps we sat in Bar Magenta
and though it's barely 9 I weigh up the consequences
a celebratory pint reminisce then move on
afraid to let go tired of the day-long trade off
the bar is familiar but I don't remember
the betting booth the Red Bull chiller
in the far corner what looks like
the Scrofa Semilanuta digging a full Meneghin breakfast
while outside traffic is building up
church front beggars step back into pre-morning's last opening
giving way to couples with ipods ideas and morning routine
they step out arterial their monthly swipe card ins and outs
now consultable on the intranet since we outsourced the payroll
just about as far as it would go to the huge angels opposite La Borsa
they look down chipped worn wings weathered faces expressionless
the buy and sell the freshly minted iron lung of greed
betrayal trashing this town's long since spent rebuildable soul
office centres for future generations of flying fuckless bypassers through
who never felt this long breath of history
exhale and settle preening on the plain
El nost Milan April 2009