Going to London

Going to London

I love the time before takeoff,
that stretch of time, no drifting thoughts
and the black fake leather row of seats
where you can meet famous or strange people
and children play with new toys and cry.
Nicola Pietrangeli tall and handsome
doesn’t attract the young girls any more
and nobody asks him an autograph.
The Rai journalist with his blue glasses
seems a waxed statue and I am
proud to have in my group
the young chap from Malèna.
The loudspeaker blurts
we all leap up and become
Flight 232 boarding at Gate 13.