Quasi tutte le luci della città sono accese e dal bianco immacolato riflette un calore estetico che ammorbidische istantaneo lo sguardo fugace, gli occhi notturni nascosti nel manto della notte come le perle nere che brillano nel solito guscio mirifico in un sorriso goffo e silenzioso.
Motto: ”My uncle loves me too much…”
Gwendolyn Brooks
I don’t know how old I am
perhaps six or seconds before
in the florist-shop across the river
all vases smell like hell
he is standing in a floating tub
in the middle
a central-piece on a quantity of water
my uncle is nice
my uncle is fishing
I like him a lot
he loves me too much
I hate cars passing
under my window like sea crabs
running thru rain
the wind brings familiar smells
from the old restaurant
across the street
my brain craves snow
I stare at the phone in vain
no rings this evening no soul
nobody knows I’m here
but the brown ageless cat
on my couch
exquisitely ignoring me
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