The Fascist Estate Agent and Her Crap Apartments

We met her
at the train station
she wore a grubby white cardigan
and had about four teeth in her head

She took us to a car
it was dirty
and looked like a benign lump on wheels

The first apartment was terrible
filthy walls
a strong sewage smell
seeping out of the sofa
I could barely hear her tired sales pitch
over the racket of traffic
coming from the open window
“a great place to sit quietly” I thought

On the way to the next place
we passed a grand monumental cemetery
being new to this part of Italy
we made passing comments
on the beauty of the stonework
she agreed
and proudly told us how
it was the work of Mussolini
how he had overseen its construction
and
how there was also one similar in Milan

It was a hot day
the inside of her car smelt like cigarette breath
and
second hand sweat
her passion whined
like old box car brakes

The second apartment was worse
we wanted to leave
she asked us our star signs
we told her it didn’t matter
as we shook hands
I noticed that the skin around her eyes
was loose and stained
a deep tobacco brown