Dancing to Perfidia - Poem #15

Red Sea breeze and indigo sky
pierced by a full moon hanging
like the Christmas lights
strung above the roof top bar.

Potted palm fronds, barely moving;
pretty young things, different colors
chocomocha café latte
Italian band plays thirties favorites.

Transported to another time
sitting now where dead men sat
hot breeze off eternal sea
they dreamed of home, of Italy.

Il Duce’s portrait here no longer
“Campari soda piacere”
gone the dusty dream of glory
I’m dancing to Perfidia.

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