I truly wonder why all these since one can be lost with  

            a lot less things.

I remember one who’s hunger pushed him to desire a street

organ, which he sat down and ate, there, at the corner

only spitting out the crutch of the soldier, and the fat ugly

woman had revealed her big breasts over the balcony

“don’t feel sorry for me” she said “I’m very clever” and

she was staring at the end of the road;

then we sat on the grass of the dark cemetery and helped

              the dead child.

Then slavery again, tetanus, the longest sun downs;

the escapee didn’t know where to cry and the fence

             looked motherly

“tyrannize me” the limping woman said to me “I just

want to escape”; poor woman where can you go?

I truly knew a family of blind; none of them had seen

            anything for years

and when their house caught fire people said they put

the fire out with the power of not been able to see. I’ll

             narrate the rest later.

For now, I want to finish my face with pieces of fabric,

              horseshoes, grasshoppers

but who can say what exists at the dark end of the store

              behind that last carton? 

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