Guinot. Sunday afternoon.


At 3 pm I adjusted my tie and lit up a cigarette.

I was wearing a sign to be read by

the girls with the shortest mini skirts. Among all

the sentences that went around my congested brain

I had chosen this one: “BLIND”, in capital letters

and smaller below: “for Love”.


From 4 to 5 pm, thanks to the salary of my supermarket job,

I drove my life well understanding that there would be

infinite doses of forgiveness after death.


At 5.10 pm I looked as if nobody was looking at me,

same as when I go somewhere by subway. Later I looked

as if I had to erase some manly sins that I carry inside me

but I don’t know how.


At 5.30 pm I finished my favourite sunday fantasy.

It was impressive, it ended with my hobbies: to go shopping in America

because over there shops open all days,

like those two sisters that used to sell their ass monday through sunday.


Those two sisters.


At 5.45 pm, I remembered my father.

He smelled of Floyd aftershave and left again

to a place with people and rules that did not concern me.


It was 6 pm and I was still in the street

when the walls of my home spoke,

because they all fit between the walls of my home,

my friends and my foes,

there they are, sometimes shut up,

sometimes gesticulating and speaking too loud

as voices inside a phone,

beside the phrase I have bad news for you or

beside my uncle’s voice -who used to call up from Argentina

and never called again-,

at the end a whole life fits in a very small place,

it’s like putting the hand that writes in a pocket

and smoke.

In the street.

With the unknown.





Portraits (2)


Amy believes that no matter how high you put your things

the ants always reach them.


Chedi did it. The sound of a plane reached him and

he stopped walking. Inside his body everything stank like a bar.


Friday evening. Cars park,

Men and women get off and walk towards the light.


Paul asks himself, Why me?


Alfredo heard how Nuria hung up. As

if she had decided to change all. Her parents, her childhood, her literature teacher.

Change her life in a poster with Mao. And change her smiling face in a wedding picture.


A train split her soul in two when she was 15. Now her soul

stinks like a bar.


Amy watches the switched off tv. When indian attack

you always have to shoot the chief. Do not forget it. She looks at the chairs, the shelves,

she still has in her head what she was thinking while driving back home. She doesn’t hear

the floor speaking asleep about her shoes.


Elsa never stopped drinking after gulp number 13. The night is falling

and she will have to live again with no safety net below.


Alfredo now thinks that Nuria is sitting

on the edge of the bed, naked- The dog is looking at her

but she doesn’t care.


It’s the night of the typhoon and Leo asks herself, Why me?