I come from the noble
stone ancestor.
Cradled in ditches,
spilled in the mouths,
in the kisses,
in the cups
I am the mellifluous roundness
of all the clusters,
the rebellious and coiled branch.
the golden awakening
next to your body
in the roar of a spasm
in a wet dream
of what was not.
I wander through uncertain boulevards
looking for me in the lists
of the discontinued,
I join the shadows
port spectral,
I chase the figures
dehumanized
of the Paseo del Diglo,
I spent the night in Pringles Square
longing for what could have been.
I walk the hours
whereabouts uncertain,
but with the perfect notion
of my origin
My steps will carry me
and that last woman
will cut my way
some cloudy day,
grey,
leaden.
because it's a waste
die with this sun