Klimt1918
 "Just in case we'll never meet again"
(Soundtrack for the cassette generation)

Barefoot, on the bricks still warmed up by sun. Our bodies love each other incessantly while we let the fleeting eyes caress the sky and the stars.

No one can see us, while we can do everything. I bite your ear that smells of seaside and summer. I think that this moment should last for ever. In front of us the dark buildings, the lights turned off and the wind. The silent wind drags with him distant scents. Remote farmers light up fires in the fields which we're not able to reach neither with thought. Or it's just fires of the whores on the border of the country roads. Those sparks become fires, producing acrid smoke devouring the trees and the sky. I move inside of you. The hasty hands that wanna feel everything, clasp, scratch, smell of sweat and saliva. It's everything perfect and well founded. It's everything quiet; even our breathes, which take care not to change into storm. It's natural smiling and then crying right after. Inside my room there's a mattress on the floor. Sheet wet of love pools and menstrual blood. A shroud that smells of your body and of my thoughts. ''Will you remember about these eyes when you're far away?". I say these words almost sighing. "Look at them carefully, I want you to remember every single detail, 'coz these are the eyes of the one who loves you".

Outside a white owl flies above us, comes down towards the trees and disappears. Its call sounds lonely and re-echoed, among the balconies full of vases. Such apparition is a bad omen? There's no time to know it. We need to push more deeply. We need to disappear one into the other with the hands taking care to favour the annihilation. You grasp at my back, your mouth is open, your wet hair on the forehead. There's astonishment, there's the clear sensation that doesn't exist, neither will ever exist an extasy greater than this. Muscles twitch, between one vase and another, barely touched  by the plants. It's an endless release which surprises us at the same time.

I ask for your lips once again. They taste of salt as well. Traces of ocean on your skin and sand among the fingers of your feet. ''Would you have ever desiderd to reach such pleasures, knowing that there would not have been a way to descend into them?". You speak out of breath, almost in a low voice and have a look below in the meantime. I'm behind, anchored to your body, the face sunk into your back. All is still at dead of night. Rome in summer, between a Saturday and a Sunday whatever. Taste of smoke and warm pavements. Denied seagulls which have forgotten the seaside and the dirty shores of  tar now are spinning as white spiritis. Masters of the night, together with the lonely owl.

I collapse on the mattress and you crouches into my arms. You're a small and defenceless animal. You don't have a tail to wring around you, but just a soaked sheet of gore and my emaciated body. Sleep comes quickly and takes us by surprise. One hour or maybe two. We feel on our skin the scrapes of silence. The room is dark, your eyes sometimes open with no will and shine in the darkness. I always wake up first and feel that bitter sensation in my mouth. I wake you up, we  dress ourselves again without saying a word. A t-shirt put on the contrary. The label is outside but I feel too much sleepy and too much gloomy to put me in order. Later we go down on the street. The   ring road is desert. The sky paints of white and the mountains on the horizon seem hiding fires on their shoulders. Then the abandoned farmsteads rise again from the shades in the middle of dark fields. In the distance the line of buildings and postwar neighbourhoods. Squared buildings attacking the countryside, with their antennas, their parables.

I don't say anything. We don't need no music, but just a breath of air filtering through the windows. Outside your house my mouth kisses you but my breast trembles and does everything not to see you go away. A greeting sucked in the stillness of the night. Scents of dust, you still have the mark of my teeth on your skin. It's a farewell in the night or better, a few minutes before the dawn. I'm at the wheel, the speed: crossing the empty streets of the suburbs and then I cut across the fields. Kilometres in the lightened darkness. Anxiety and despair fight against the eyes which wanna close. Is there a worse condemnation than enjoying love and then letting it run away? The parching thirst in my mouth brings me back to my childhood when I left alone, at night, and I feared that the darkness swallowed me. I had a frequent dream, a dream in which I sunk in a dark pool of dense and slimy water. The room for oxygen was almost over and the black juice invaded lungs and eyes. I'm inside the same pool and I sink, and there is something burning on my skin. There's the cry of which I feel ashamed that comes up from the gullet. It's a feeling of fear and resignation. But it comes out with an explosion of a curse. The car goes across the fields. I deny God, I curse him. I poison the air, the mucus from the nose contaminates my mouth. I take it with the wheel.

I stop in the middle of nowhere. Silence. A silence that discourages you, that fills you. ''You're too much  coward to scream, to act like a mad, to thrust a finger down your throat and vomit the magma flowing inside of you'', I shout confusedly. Yielding and well founded, I'm the one as usual. As a child, in spite of the years, with the same fear of drowing in the dark. I'd like to bite and bleeding, but it's just the thought of an indistinct and vague figure, in the early morning, on the edge of a country road. I'm just the boy who loves you and who, lonely, comes back to the wheel. I hold it tight and come back home, without saying a word. My body hates himself. And does it with eyes caressing the sky and the stars. No one can see me, while I can do everything.

Other tales - "The breathtaking days", "Skygazer", "Ghost of a tape listener"