When I told you everything was fine, it wasn't.
I'm sorry for that.
I was supposed to come to Venice, and I didn't.
It was not a game, it has just been bad days,
bad thoughts, and my mind
sank somewhere.
And I never wrote to you either
because I really didn't know
how to explain what happened.
So I won't.
When we'll meet again
feel free to beat me with an egg whisk
like the lady on the cover of your magazine.
I know you'd like to do that.
I also know you're really proud
of that cover,
and you're right
it's so cool!
I also know you'll be in a sulk
reading these words,
because you don't understand why
I disappeared like that.
And I know you'll be also wondering
why am I writing you like a former lover
rather than a former bartender.
Anyway, we both know
I've never been
on that list.
It's nice to hear again from you.
And I actually miss being a bartender,
I must confess it.
