We moored at dusk. The gangway clanked & swayed
beneath my weight, Vesuvius a blue
ghost at my back as I walked into Naples
on the seawall. Threads of laughter floated
toward me from a gathering below
the great, black towers of Castel Nuovo.
Soon I saw a platinum blonde, in heels
& stockings, standing at the center of
a throng of my shipmates, some of them clutching twenties.
This was April 1975.
