Vale, Paniku
Vito was a standup guy. One of those charismatic guys who was quick with a joke and a laugh that he delivered so hard that it would buckle him over. A guy’s guy, we always had the best conversations and he was one of the most genuine people that I have ever met. 40 is far, far too young. It goes to prove that the man upstairs comes for the good ones first. The gates of Heaven are well protected and I will have a cigarette for you when I get there.
Rest in peace, Vito.
Because I could not stop for Death –
He kindly stopped for me –
The Carriage held but just Ourselves –
And Immortality.
We slowly drove – He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For His Civility –
We passed the School, where Children strove
At Recess – in the Ring –
We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain –
We passed the Setting Sun –
Or rather – He passed us –
The Dews drew quivering and chill –
For only Gossamer, my Gown –
My Tippet – only Tulle –
We paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground –
The Roof was scarcely visible –
The Cornice – in the Ground –
Since then – ‘tis Centuries – and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses’ Heads
Were toward Eternity –
Emily Dickinson, published posthumously.










