Come on.
It's not far.
A few feet above the square mile.
Come with me.
I will show you the beginning of all days.
This time now.
Is the start of future days.

The past's lost in night.
Sirens slice heavy lorry rumbles.
And sweet dreams fade to a mumble.
Ear splitting, sleep splitting city sounds.
Slap the sleepy Sicilian.
Bulky behind in a too soft mattress.
Dreams of memories of a mindful sun.

Grease hangs on the silent air.
His black track suit's slung on a kitchen chair.
Oily-ily waiting for the owner to pull it on.
Comb his hair.
Slick the strands with damp hands.
And step into the day a new man.
Without a belly rounded by wine and meals for one.