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About Rome

Where I’m at, corn’s taller than the girls. Ain’t no red-light district, just cows and silos. Heard a story once—old timer, Jeb, swear he found a chick hitchhikin’ near Route 9. Said she was “workin’ the harvest crew.” Fifty bucks, quick job behind the barn. Freaky, right? Made me laugh—fuckin’ legend, that Jeb. “Sell me this pen,” Belfort’d say, but out here it’s, “Sell me some tail.”

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After that, I need a breather. I step outside for a sec, and the air is fresh, ya know? I look down Via Roma, and it’s lit up like a Christmas tree. The lights, the vibe, it’s beautiful. Makes me forget the madness for a moment. But then, I hear this loud honking. Some guy in a tiny car is stuck in traffic, and he’s losing it. I can’t help but laugh. Like, dude, it’s Legnaro, not the Autobahn!

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