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Poetry
Nietzsche Said
by Mike Lewis-Beck
Turin was the only city worth living in
but he went mad anyway on a Sunday
walking around Parco Valentino in January,
with wet snow falling on a pewter afternoon.
Men of a certain age with dogs in tow
stand at the gate of the Valentine Palace, now
built for luxury flats, without a ballroom.
Still-marking the dead space stands
a dance hall at the park edge, its bright color blaring
The door can be opened but the dancers lack music,
and the ticket taker yawns.
© Mike Lewis-Beck 2026
From The Literary Nest, Fall 2019.