Not for nothing did a very handsome man recently pronounce Bon-Bon a “chick magnet,” but the demographic he most reliably sweeps the boards with are older Italian men who spend a lot of time in their front yards. They can’t get enough of him. Their eyes start from their spheres like stars, they put down their garbage bags, their garden hoses, their paper cups of coffee, and turn away from masculine friends of many years in order to get closer to something small and beautiful and unknowable, and then they tell me about themselves.
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