Picture ID
The man who walks alone in time, with his hat down
to his eyes, with a piece of ice in his mouth, you know him
from his right hand, always hidden in his pocket, (as if it were
wooden, covered by a brand-new glove) holding tightly
his ID papers that he didn’t want to show, perhaps it was
only the nail from which that seascape was hanging
with the empty, red, floating life-jackets, and the big lemons.

https://draft2digital.com/book/4278093#print

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763785