Warning

Black and white photos line the walls 
of the local Italian trattoria.

Young men in uniform, women in
between-the-war dresses, do not smile

as I drink red table wine from the
Abruzzo. No jobs and our boys are dead,

their eyes say. Sober as a new widow,
certain as a premonition, their sepia tones

tell all: it can happen to you.

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