I truly wonder why all these since one can be lost with
a lot less things.
I remember one who’s hunger pushed him to desire a street
organ, which he sat down and ate, there, at the corner
only spitting out the crutch of the soldier, and the fat ugly
woman had revealed her big breasts over the balcony
“don’t feel sorry for me” she said “I’m very clever” and
she was staring at the end of the road;
then we sat on the grass of the dark cemetery and helped
the dead child.
Then slavery again, tetanus, the longest sun downs;
the escapee didn’t know where to cry and the fence
“tyrannize me” the limping woman said to me “I just
want to escape”; poor woman where can you go?
I truly knew a family of blind; none of them had seen
anything for years
and when their house caught fire people said they put
the fire out with the power of not been able to see. I’ll
narrate the rest later.
For now, I want to finish my face with pieces of fabric,
but who can say what exists at the dark end of the store
behind that last carton?