Life, Davide Trame

What goes on, they say, anyway,
even after what we can imagine,
(believers never give up) but for now
life is just my dog at lunch,
her muzzle on my thigh under the table,
asking, by waiting, for her grissini
and never giving up once she got one,
never giving up and asking for another,
going on and on, like life.
While I am listening to a blues on the radio,
one line repeating itself before the next,
as if only an identical pair could keep going,
like the railway tracks…
or a “me and you” or “this and that”,
or a robin singing to another in my balcony
even if it sings “so long, baby so long “.

Or like me anyway, never giving up,
thinking about you and clinging,
while traveling on the train,
clinging to this ongoing swarming
and blurring and clanging,
this staying even while passing away,
on tracks on stones in the roar and their refrain.