The same afternoon
from the gray look
of stationary clouds.
It looks like the afternoon
yesterday, with clouds
and a wind that pinched
the skin.
Yesterday there were birds
on the wires propping up
the sky and chattering songs.
Now the wires are
empty...where would they go
birds? they would return
to Matisse's brushes
and repainted later
of having lost its colors
in the gray afternoon?
The same afternoon, in the streets
empty where silence reigns
like a passerby
that walks on cobblestones
also gray.
Opportune time to read,
travel to distant towns,
stand in a corner
geometric, wait for the crossing
of pedestrians, after
of the flashing traffic lights
intelligent.
Find you between the yellow lines
of flowery streets of trees
naked
Wait for you and see what you get closer
with your flowered dress
late. Sit on a bench
in some park in the universe
parallel... unmoor laughter
of your lips with a pretty
phrase, under the glasses of a
malinche, which I planted in the
past of time.
Kiss you while the hours go by
gray clouds this afternoon,
then... return to the first
book page.