Fools behind nothingness with tears
Inert and invisible pasquinades.
Maikel Iglesias.
My cubicle mate goes to bed late in the afternoon
to rest and leave early to the beach
which, according to him, reaches as far as the window.
It´s cold,
juicy,
he tells me inviting me to the waves.
I look at the sand in his hands,
I remain distant,
I tell him yes,
that I will come after receiving a flight
from Italy
where Da Vinci arrives to praise my painting.
My cubicle mate smiles between the linens
and tells me: ((( va bene amico,
next week we will visit London in a flying ambulance))).
YOU ARE READING
When I close my door
PoetryI dedicate this work to all the friends who are left in the heart. To all those who love me. In When I close my door, a social interest and a renunciation for the sake of communication is explicit, the subject destroys his exterior, recomposes himse...
