Way of Life
I have the light – he says He doesn’t seek other allies
Monday to Saturday is a slow process The trains leave
He passes by in front of the cafe he looks inside
legs and legs under the tables glasses
on the tables and cups and a lemon
big bronze buttons from ripped coats
roll down the bare slope he hears them
each of them stops in a different spot They don’t reach the sea
Libros Libertad 