Privincetown Tales

By: - Oct 01, 2015

Vico Vico Vico


Sunday brunch in P’Town
Vico and Grace
Glorious late September
Artists, colleagues and friends
Memories of visiting
Them in Florence
Vico made soup
From stale bread
Talk of recipes
Polenta rather than pasta
He’s from the Piedmont
Northern Italian
Different than Grace
Like me a Sicilian
Whole compared
To my half
Then a story from
When he worked at
Sal’s restaurant
Not speaking
Much of the English
Fresh off the boat
Ecco with a shrug
Late night mopping up
Two thugs barged in
The big one well know
Local bruiser
Sancho Panza sidekick
Said beat him up
Vico cringed
Looks exchanged
With hand gestures
His unique semaphore
Shrugs and gasps
Punctuating the narrative
Beat him up
Again but more insistent
Vico blurting out
Something in Italian
Then, Miracolo
Si, si with a shrug
The big guy embraced him
Italia e bella non e vero
In broken languages
Memories of Italy
They wandered off drunk
Into the night intent
On beating up
Someone else
With luck and pluck
Pinnochio survived
To tell the tale
Told with such gusto