(To my friend of a lifetime ...)
We find ourselves strangers in a long run against the wind
with your troubles - with my penis - in their own way happy.
Dawn - that seduced us - you paint your face with makeup sunset
and hides wrinkles in portraits,
Giancarlo. I do not remember the terraces or roofs, or antennas;
not remember the women who kept us in baptism of love.
Just remember - in the heart and sad gray hair -
is that of detachment. Two brothers who set fire to the sun - burning coal
words.
(2001, January)
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