Almost Real

When a girl grows up in Napoli
There are roads laid out before her
And you understand, i'm speaking of
The times before the war
When a girl grows up in Napoli
She is more or less a target.

For her mamma's expectations
For the boys' infatuations
All you get is one decision
Will she give them what they want?

My sister Chiara wore tight-fitting sweaters
Unbuttoned just so
Chiara would squeeze every drop of attention
Wherever she'd go
Chiara said, "'Cesca, you must be prepared"
Chiara would act as though nobody cared
Chiara would laugh at me, quiet and scared.

And I dreamed of a flat in Siena
On the market square
With a book and a pot and a window
And a single chair
Far from lonesome
Far from Chiara
Almost real.

Paolo was a boy from down the hill with silver eyes and hair
Like coal
And massive hands that trembled when he looked my way
Paolo was a boy who loved to swim, and who knows why I fell
For him
But soon enough I kissed him on a winter's day.

Chiara said, "'Cesca, he's dull and he's dumb
You'll end up a farm wife, exhausted and numb
I'm off to the serviceman's club; you should come!"

But I dreamed of the beach at Ancona
Where our kids would play
Paolo right by my side, and the ocean
Only steps away
Close to heave
Far from Chiara
Almost real.

Chiara went dancing while air raid sirens were shrieking
Chiara would open her legs just as easy as speaking
Paolo went off with the Army and never returned
And all that Chiara could say was, "I hope now you've learned."

And the streets were rubble
And the water was filthy
And there were no cigarettes
And no haircuts
And no thinking about the future
And I sat at the harbor
Watching the American ships
And then.

I looked up and I saw an American smile down at me
And I knew if I just took his hand, I would at least be free
I could love him, I could want him
Only take me from Italia
Far from Chiara!
Far enough that I could feel
Almost real.