The building is at the top of the way, that of the few elegant shops.
In semi-darkness the stairs smell of scented low cost cleansing agent,
So those stairs are neither scented nor clean, in the Liberty style.
You smell of clean linen, cotton scented of high cost liberty.
I sit close to you, by your side; your short black dress rises up along the thighs.]
Out there, in a dizzle, your cheek is wet silk connected with my cheek.
All of a sudden, the June's sun is up,
Warms my chest and my arms under a thin blue suit.
American Diaspora Street widens out;
All around the scenery changes, gets rich, is renewed.
Arrivederci.
Paolo Giuseppe Mazzarello
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ode-to-an-american-girl/