How To Clean Old Doilies

.

The elezioni si perdono
una storia d'amore

Tanto per fare qualcosa decisi di andare a votare.

Stavo disegnando la solita vagina mastodontica, pensando nel frattempo a quale frase mettere, occupazione che solitamente richiedeva qualche minuto di attenta riflessione e valutazione, quando d'un tratto sentì uno schianto fuori dalla cabina elettorale. Uscì in fretta e furia dalla cabina, dimenticando di chiudere la scheda. Il presidente di seggio era livido in volto, spostava lo sguardo a destra e sinistra, indicando la porta.

"Sono....Sono....".
"Sono?"
"Sono diventati lupi!"
"Ma chi?"
"I candidati!"
"What do you mean? What is this? A metaphor?".
"Metaphor shit, those are their wolves."

Indeed it was.

Those candidates were the same as before, but wolves.

It is not easy to explain. They had all the paraphernalia that went with them to campaign for each election: their fucking cell phones, their written on folder containing the names of those who had to vote, the packages of pasta and good petrol shared with each election in the popular districts and above all had their cruel smile that is compliant, that smile "votami then butt-fuck you" which apparently was their ultimate weapon.
short, were pretty darn the same as before, only now they were wolves. You could see them standing on their legs, shiny in the summer giubottino, nose sniffing the air while discussing with others trying to persuade them to vote. There were indeed some Spartan Tickets for the disco with their huge paws in exchange for something. You looked at him and you wondered: how do wolves know what a disco?

had finally removed his mask.
Other than the center-right and center, but democracy and caps to fuck.

by now had been the mere evidence of a pack of wolves who fought against other wolves to decide how to divide the spoils, and we were the spoils. It took centuries, but finally the policy had come to be understood. Understandable and terrifying.
People fled in all directions, raising cries to high heaven. There was pandemonium.

the crowd I found myself next to the scrutinizing of the seat next to ours.
I had seen only briefly and seemed to me the beauty of a completely anonymous.
Now that was next to me, smell her perfume and I liked it. He also had beautiful eyes that he was focusing on me, or rather about something in my hand.

fucking card! I'd completely forgotten.
was a fraction of a second she laid eyes on the huge vagina, then turned his eyes on me, I lowered my card and noticed a well in his hands on which he had drawn a huge penis, the riguardai eyes, smiled at me, smiled at her.

I have not stopped looking at her.

Love is just a strange thing.
always stretch when it is too late, when now it is now dusk.