Genova

I’m walking through Genoa with my clothes stuck to me in black espadrilles and River Island clothes and it’s 31 degrees at ten o’clock at night and I pay 28 euros for three courses, water and wine and am I going back for the Tube, for the overpriced shit wine, and black snot? For Cameron’s
Big Society? Genoa gave the world pesto, banking and blue jeans but I take it on trust from the tourist leaflets and it’s
gullibility to think the grass is greener; the grass is just
Different.
I drink an old fashioned and I get antipasto and think of bars in London with their 9 pound cocktails of nothing and I’ve been had, it’s/
A Ruse
and someone knows
what the joke is/
The joke isn’t funny anymore.

Posted via LiveJournal.app.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s