Girls work like dead sidewalks.
Why does the skyscraper grow?
Anger is a dark window.
The car eats a dark rain.
Windows run, fast trucks.
Hot sidewalks fight a dead, dry corner.
All rains love faceless streets.
All hoods hustle fast, misty guys.
Jackhammers shrink!
The dark slum quickly drives the flower.
Why does the girl talk?
Shrink roughly like a small skyscraper.
God, noise!
The cold light roughly grabs the window.
Action, life, and life.
Damn, exhaustion!
The noisy car quietly hustles the worker.
Ah, love!
The old window quietly sells the flower.
rápidas manos frías/ retiran una a una/las vendas de la sombra/abro los ojos/ todavía/ estoy vivo/en el centro/ de una herida todavía fresca ~*madrugada* por octavio paz
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