Allow the group to leave and wait another that comes with fewer people. Is not that?
The sweet butter milk out bumps and blisters in the mouth. Half a kilo of Mantecol not enough for a night of anxiety.
Lemon ice cream to go down.
Reaching late for work because the work I do not care, I prefer fat breakfast croissants with coffee currencies with weekly allowance.
Peru and Carlos Calvo, when the martini and fries, the brunette serving tables is a good mother's face.
someone behind the counter who takes off her clothes. Seconds later a cat sized tiger runs into the street.
Now it rains.
one hundred twenty-six The about me to Plaza de Mayo.
pigeons flying in circles over my head and within my head everything is silent. My head is an abandoned subway station. Just enter the necessary light to avoid tripping over old memories. But I can not be allergic to dust that deposited on the old-time images of wars lost.
Behind the cathedral there is another church once told me, and that continues. In the block of lights and tunnels do not lead anywhere.
dreams remain dreams of grandeur.
I never ate a hot dog on the street. I do not dare. What if I ended up liking?
Again the work was late and I can not think of any apology. Now I have to go home. But I do not know if I want.
Is it a long way back home?
I lost long ago. When the world was a different landscape. When a white gingerbread and chocolate was enough for a night of smoke and flour.
When being a rebel meant to be shoes. And be supportive was to be revolutionary.
Today to be rebellious, alternative and anti-authoritarian have to walk on skates for the platform of the subway.
This time the bus did not stop, I almost run over. Maybe I'll walk. Anyway, the blisters on my feet today and I was not cured with salt.
Someone wrote in the street "morning coat" no "toy" ...
Anytime it rains ... the newsboy on the corner listening to music ... I know by heart every note, wish you were here, I dedicated it so many times ...
0 comments:
Post a Comment