Yes, you were the woman who drew on the paper tablecloth in that italian restaurant
The correct way for me to find your womb;
Yes, I was the man who in the middle of the road always knew if there was still too much
Or little until the final spot (even in the dark, even in the dive);
Mining your plasma mine, I remember the pennies of the children’s game and the long
Hair strands of the girls stuck in the back of the school bus seat waving, waving…;
They say the sense of location is a virtuous, useful and… useful and addictive gift;
Addictive and morbid; they say that adding up means anything that increases
Uniqueness, such as if two were greater than one that is worth two, or three, or one,
Even added is worth only zero of everything; the result of the sum of my love with yours
Will be emptiness, void, your goodbye; if in fact lovers should be preserved, yes, we were
Lovers ( we are); we talk about art and philosophy, we go together to the concerts of
Schubert; as if our bed had already been born ready (it was not made with intimacy),
As if passion were only booty we have the noxious, we possess what we feared;
Tonight we’ve been worse and together and tomorrow morning we’ll be better and…
Alone.