Desert streets
the warm sun
the mirages of the asphalt
and the dream of the lonely walker
it’s summer
do you remember the villas in Veneto
the big river
the scent of the sea
the air ruffles your hair
the hot sand
it’s summer
the lake is waking up late
the stranger keeps silent
and the rain falls
increasingly heavy
on our problems
of yesterday of today always
the white statues observe us
but don’t comment on us
it’s summer
our summer
or the summer of many fools
like me
