Francine Three

You're going nowhere, she doesn't want to gloat, paints her face dead slow, she has scraped my bones, has an Italian home, doesn't care for show, says she's suffered you know, in Paris or New York, keeping up this cheerful tone, since our time in Rome, men with iPhones, makes crowds at her door, we are leaving Palermo, Linguini and exorbitant loans, it takes energy to go, she's such a generous soul, working the blow, everyone she meets is Joe she fastens the rope.