Vale Paradiso

 
Vale Paradiso

The sea life is blueness caused by monotony
Formica tables and dirty fingernails 
as the ship wanders between water vales 
climbing to the top of mountainous berg
and sharply falling into a foamy brew 
when the storm persists, knowing a small 
mishap is fatal, there is nothing one can
do, but hoping the end will be quick 
In my ignorance, I look at the map that 
shows the oceans, which appear to be endless
will the ship ever reach Los Angeles 
I think of Vale Paradiso, this cumbersome 
will not make it that far
Finally, she makes, any place will do, but
what waits are bars and whores, not
the peace longed for