sooner or later we will have to meet the face of happiness.
that face will be in the shape of a tree
or the vague silhouette of a shore, the smell of the sewers, the note
multicolor of a piano, it will be perhaps the intellectual challenge of
a university note, a distant love that returns to
embrace each other, sooner or later we will have to get tired of the
uncertainty of the inert, of the stone heart
and of the people who understand by imagination a bulging wallet.
we will have to be lucky, sooner or later happiness will appear
ridiculous and beautiful mesh with polka dots, and we will throw ourselves into the sea,
upside down, naked, populated with snails and fireflies,
of fish and stars, of kisses and chocolate flavor.
and who made wounded rabbits out of our feet
they will not know where we have put wounds and scars.
there is no, there are no other guidelines than the mouth opening its way to
the smile.
sooner or later there will be a blade that will move her waist under
a fantasy moon the face of happiness will be a mirror,
made of many mirrors
of the faces we were, of the souls we will be.