Alitalia, Psychedelia, Uno, Due, Tre

Turn the corner in your checkered nightshirt
And a cop whistles you off the street.
The marathon runners are blasting by
In early morning darkness.
Were you sleepwalking?
A worrisome loss of self-control,
Not to mention unsafe.
Walk along the low bridge
On your way back up the hill.
It’s deserted, yet you hear voices.
You begin to suspect you aren’t awake
Since you haven’t worn that pajama in years.

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