my own sweat falls from my head
to my bones
a thin presence of lime
black pepper
and safran
in the old opium parlour
there are unknown small fairies
under the huge palm leaves
and scooters sliding above the melting
streets
why that endless fire is burning
the red flag is still blowing
for the tellers are going slightly mad and
I wonder
who's the best girl I ever had?
No hay comentarios:
Publicar un comentario