The Last Days of Il Duce
“I could come to no conclusions. Someone from the North Beach Chamber of Commerce had raised an Italian flag from the roof of a nearby building, here in the heart of the old neighborhood, but the truth was you’d be hard pressed to find any of the old faces. The park was full, but not with Italians. Some Chinese kids, dressed in the uniform of the Salesian school, rolled and tumbled beneath the magnolias. A Mexican woman and her daughter mugged for an old man’s camera. A Viet teenager, legs smoot...h and long, stopped in front of me and bent down, snuffing a cigarette against her heel. A pretty black boy in drag straddled a nearby bench, puckering his lips and complimenting the men who walked by. Soon he was gone and the others were gone too, in and out of the park, and new people came to take their place. The wind ruffled across the grass, and I could see the grass trembling with the inconstancy of it all, and even the buildings seemed to offer but the illusion of permanence. They had shifted and fallen before, then been raised again after earthquakes and fire, so that the park itself was not in the same place it had once been, and over it all was the Italian flag, with no Italians in sight.MoreLess
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