TARES

It was in a dusty summer night

in the summer of self

a girl was getting undress on the other side of the street

the clouds above our heads

the absent wind

the invisible blue haze

the white walls

the light-invisible rain

you are out on the beach

walking on an island with your bare feet

that I once hear tip-toeing over wooden floors

elysian stones

and mattresses

and the aching guts of the whole world

living in you

breathing small yellow flowers on your skin

wishing you could

get up and recover those mystified days

in which you used to get up and thought you were in a dream

and everything was fine

and you had love

and life itself had the power to light you up

through a voice

a heat

a wait

but now

right now

you are the battle

you are submerged in the depths

like an old indian prayer surrounded by smoke

and meadows, and oaks burning, and the frozen dew on your tongue

throat

belly

like an elevator mechanic looking upwards

in the mudd

making all that noise

inside

I’m not the one you think I am

Not a tool to your plots

Not a catholic saint in the altars of fake

Not your stallion

Not a washing machine

Not a father to your children

Not a priest

Not a mouse to trap

Not a clerk man

Not a bureaucrat

Coming home 21:30

Feeling glad with myself

Kissing you in the forehead

Peace of mind

loneliness

feet are above the ground

walking up and down the corridor

eyes closed

seeing the dark disappear

as I pass by

watching all the walls turning into the finest transparent silk and cotton

as you walk by

and all those images of coal

head disconnected from the body

smog

a trembling sweet sex to lay your breath in

empty forests

coming out of them just like water drops from a mill

just

like

memories