The Italian coast is a dangerous place for an American
Its full of sharks, so I’ve heard.
Englishmen consider the wogs chums
Americans more as the singular
With a hat from Chile,
pants assembled in Mexico,
and bananas grown in Venezuela,
The whole seems to be  lesser than its parts.

There is an entire universe
of embryonic possibilities
flowing and skating together
as ideas clash
and thoughts soak
in chalaza

With a crack
it all gargles out
a scrambled mess