The roads are hugged by branchless Christmas trees
A beam cuts them like scalpel and gives
the morning summerly autumn to the squirrels
the natural hair of the street clown has whitened from too much fun
the loneliness steals large canvases from the cinemas
and sews itself in the dandy suits with which
pedestrians go to work
the tiny lights slowly set behind the grain mills
The Earth is loaded on airships that change its orbit
the fruits are planets in the yards
the thoughts are safely stationed in a temporary parking
like a hemisphere
and the body chooses to juggle at crosswalks to the red light
Gothic castles show the way of the soul with their sharp peaks
the roundabouts calmly blossom
autumn pastorals from the mouths of the vagrants and few bums
that burn those parts of the soul that are reflection of the
Heaven in you.
07.09.18,
Bayonne
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