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About Rome

I’d finally spot one, okay? Some chick in fishnets, leanin’ on a wall, and I’m like, “Oh god, oh god, what now?” I’d stumble over, all nervous, sayin’, “Hey, uh, you workin’?” She’d smirk—SMIRK!—and I’d be furious! “Don’t judge me, lady, I herd sheep all day!” I’d haggle, too, ‘cause I’m cheap— “Twenty bucks, that’s it, take it or leave it!” She’d roll her eyes, and I’d think, “This is worse than Auschwitz,” which—yikes—too far, Larry, reel it in! But that’s my brain, ping-pongin’ like Saul’s, from panic to dark humor.

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Then, outta nowhere, this kid on a bike zooms past and nearly knocks her over. I’m like, “Hey! Watch it, Speed Racer!” But the kid just laughs and keeps goin’. I mean, c’mon! Where’s the respect? Nonna Rosa just shakes her head, like she’s seen it all before. I can’t help but chuckle.

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