Four Men and the Fifth
He is alone and kneeling inside of him.
The other wears a new mask.
The third man has yellow leather gloves.
The flower seller wears his white robe.
Take off the mask, he says, the sword, the gloves.
Let’s take off our shoes. We all, naked, fallen
on our knees, groping the planks, under the armchairs
the chairs, the beds for that coin that fell from
the pocket of the fifth man, not that we want to buy
anything, but only to find it. Thus, on the same
position four men, searching for the lost coin as
if around a water well into which we threw
the metal meter, and we don’t know how to measure
our height or our penis, only that coin and the echo
of the meter, falling into the dark water, same
like all other noises (However, was it the same for
the fifth man who had died?)
