When my Italian son
admired a poster of Garibaldi
in the piazzetta of Venice,
a national father in a red shirt,
gold chain, Moroccan fez and fancy beard,
I wished the boy knew the Lincoln
who read after a day's work,
the honesty, the commoner.
My knees hurt from my life and playing soccer
- not that I see Lincoln splashing with his kids
in the Pontomac. Lord knows where his dead son led
  him.

2
My son tells me Fortuna could have put
Lincoln and Garibaldi in Venice -
Garibaldi in red silk, Lincoln
in a stovepipe hat black as a gondola.
My son mimics Garibaldi:
...