The beach people yelled at Stefano, the story monger,
“Enough! Put a period on it! Please god”
He could not, so told them the story of his birth,
of how his mother, the dark, long haired, lovely one,
wrapped him within the folds of her white dress,
nuzzling his fuzzy little head and proclaimed,
“Stefano, you and you alone own the moon
Women will beg you to come
to their villas for private parties
You will swim with newly found species
in untroubled waters
Bats and lizards will ask your advice
about business dealings
Creatures everywhere will cock their ears
to listen before making investments
The president of the United States, the King of Spain
will want to pay their respects
Kites will lift you into the stratosphere
for a worldwide view
You, Stefano, are the 21st Century man –
Portuguese, French, Chinese, Sardinian –
who knows who all I’ve slept with –
You, center of black holes and quarks:
Stefano, my son, gem of all gems!”
“And,” Stefano grinned to the gathering crowd,
“I believe her”