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1135 10TH STREET (AND G.M.)
How nice it is to meet an old friend,
How refreshing to see an old friend;
Meeting an old friend is much better than discovering new ones--
Passing an old stone
On the winding mountain road,
Passing an old oak tree
In the English country garden.
Passing a derelict castle
On the French hillside,
Passing an old ant
On the sidewalk--
Glory be to Giovannina!
Maybe all this is a castle in the air,
Maybe this is my conceptualized preconceived subconscious
imaginary expectation,
Maybe this is just a simple blade of grass.
It is all very touching.
Maybe it is just glue,
Glorified glue
That glues heaven and earth together,
Glue that seals great cracks in the Tower of London.
However,
There is something nice about Giovannina:
When she smiles,
She cheers up the depressed pollution;
When she talks,
She proclaims the wisdom of precision.
She is somewhat small,
But dynamite.
She seems to know who she is.
She could create thunderstorm;
She could produce gentle rain.
She could get you good property;
She brings down the castle in the air.
She is somehow in my opinion well-manufactured.
Fresh air of the Alps
I think she is fresh air,
Which turns into a well-cared-for garden
Free from lawn mowers and insecticides.
30 July 1975
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