I open the hand and the hands of an imaginary clock
are dozens of perfect circles. In one
hear my name in the supermarket PA system:
I've lost, and my parents expected at the meeting point.
But love is also separated and the distance
serve food on a long journey, so
stand a few minutes in the toy section
looking resplendent moon rockets and capsules,
aircraft carrier colors and a translucent cube
seems an alien spacecraft off the hook from the sky.
Then I run through hallways
metal scented with chalk and clay, wiping tears
have not sprouted yet, knowing as blood
lives in the throat, but also on the hands and lips
of a child who has a map of all parks
and all pools. He was aware that the suffering
a person would make me freer and more fruitful.
Now that we do not fear blindness or silence
and to aspire to the love you have to look like the prince
Lang Ling,
face that was so sweet
horrendous wear a mask to drag his troops into battle and death,
now we see the future when opening a cabinet
as we cherish the veins and swallowed saliva,
now that we all stop
shelves and heart rate at will, now that my parents are old men
sometimes remind me of the irremediable
will
blood through a language whose symbols
change continuously and without realizing it,
now close my eyes and wish with all
my strength until someone approaches me and tells me
" not be afraid, it's over, go home
" grabbing arm, blurring
what has made me a man forced to dispense
the idea that one day Mom and Dad will be dead
and their bodies will not have another memory than ours,
and then close my hands , apretaré fists
and everything will turn into my world and also in his
in hell we'll call first and then
limbo purgatory. ___________________
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