Zanna

Who do you want to suffer more, me or your blessed mother, outside the opera in Baltimore, from a perfect sunny evening, the kids looked after by others, all your money on Diva's, scaling down knowing the score, in a life between the covers, who do you think you are, certainly wiser than me, in your cotton suited summer, Ray Bans on the seat, sunlight on the terrace floor, music offers you a lover, everything inside is stored, you drink a long Campari, the dusk’s a dark red colour, an Atlantic bay like Brittany, have you reached the bottom ?