How To Tell An Italian Pinch From Sexual Abuse

Great Italian Lovers or How to Tell an Italian Pinch From Sexual Abuse... Of all the nerve! Sal turned abruptly as she felt the pinching of her bottom. She was never a shy girl, and certainly not about to pretend just because she was in an elevator in Naples. There were three of them. They all stood ignoring her in stony silence. She hadn't been fast enough to see which hand was jerked away. She just couldn't tell who had pinched her on the butt. The tall one looked blankly at the ceiling. Another balding man had his eyes closed as if praying. The other Italian glanced at her and smiled, then looked away. "Your prayers are answered Bambino," she said."Let's go to my room." The bald guy smiled triumphantly. morale of this poem...make sure she's Italian before pinching. Ha ha I learned the truth of this Italian pinch in a Pensione in Rome, but I changed it to Naples bacause it reads better. This is an old poem... Dedicated to my friend Caterina Pelle in Genoa Italy, © ron wilson aka Vee B'Dosa the Doylestown poet