Italian Complex

Friday nights around my mom’s big wooden dinner table were exciting,

Full of laughter, funny stories, and love.

We always had the two essentials of every Italian dinner:

A crispy crusted, thick New York pizza

And a huge ceramic bowl overflowing with pasta, meatballs, and three-cheese spaghetti sauce.

When dinner was finished, we all sat around the big screen TV to watch “The Godfather” for the hundredth time.

Some people would call us Guidos,

Others consider us the kings and queens of the world.

Our stereotype is nothing too uncommon these days:

Boys with spiked hair, gold jewelry, designer jeans, and an attitude.

Girls are much the same, talking with their hands when they argue.

Family always comes first,

The parties come second.

Our worlds are full of love and superiority,

Being generous to those we love

And spiteful to those we don’t.

We carry a goal on our shoulders,

Trying to make sure everything is perfect.

That’s the Italian Complex.

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