sooner or later we will have to meet the face of happiness.
that face will have 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
hug, sooner or later we will get tired of the
uncertainty of the inert, of the stone heart
and of people who understand a bulging wallet by imagination.
we will have to be lucky, sooner or later happiness will appear
ridiculous beautiful polka dot mesh, and we'll throw ourselves into the sea,
upside down, naked, populated with snails and fireflies,
of fish and stars, of kisses and the taste of chocolate.
and who made wounded rabbits out of our feet
they will not know where we have got wounds and scars.
there are no, no other guidelines than the mouth making 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 that we were, of the souls that we will be.