b.z. niditch | a neo realist night


Watching the film
“Citta Aperta”
while it is freezing
outside the Roman marquee
escaping street icicles
by a found xmas sweater
in the cold theater
my xanthic case is lost
along with l’estranger,
until I approach
my expected taxi driver
I call Camus
who drove me here
and promised to give me
a ride to my performance
when the movie is over
who hands me my sax
right next to me
wondering if other poets
or jazz musicians
have such Beat chances
of exceptional acts of fate
as I invite my driver
to be my guest
while a Mingus tape
plays his riffs
and snow kisses
the defrosted windows.

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