3 Short Stories And 10 Poems

I never saw such a horse. He was being led around the paddock with his head down and when he went by me I felt all hollow inside he was so beautiful.

I learned to talk French quick. It’s an easy language.

We got into Paris early in the morning in a long dirty station the old man told me was the Gare de Lyon. Paris was an awful big town after Milan. Seems like in Milan everybody is going somewhere and all the trams run somewhere and there aint any sort of a mixup, but Paris is all balled up and they never do straighten it out. I got to like it though, part of it anyway, and say it’s got the best race courses in the world. Seems as though that were the thing that keeps it all going and about the only thing you can figure on is that every day the buses will be going out to whatever track they’re running at going right out through everything to the track.

When my old man grinned nobody could help but grin too.

This was living. He was through with the hotel garden, breaking up frozen manure with a dung fork. Life was opening out.

The young gentleman looked through his pocket book and took out a two lira note and two ones.

The young gentleman felt relieved.

Peduzzi’s day was going to pieces before his eyes.

Peduzzi was down at the river and did not notice her till she was almost out of sight over the crest.

Of course you haven’t got the guts to just go back, said the wife.