In my ear you say:
Of being two strangers
you would be attracted to me
and maybe you rape me one afternoon
upon returning to my house …
Then you take me to the forgotten tree,
to the corner covered with dry leaves,
to the place where the sun grows thin
and dirties the moon
the mud of silence.
You describe my gestures
how would I undress you
and I would throw you threatening you with death
while the trees on the avenue
they would shake cups, saps;
hidden suns and silences.
That slight amber perspiration
which is concentrated at the tip of your nose.
That trembling of your right hand;
your erect nipples under the blouse:
You get excited
when describing your fantasy.
I look around: the afternoon
concentrates at a distant point. The loneliness
it is a transparent lagoon. I take you by the neck
you ask me what i do
and your final word is a moan.
Sometimes the fight
it is the best way to chisel orgasms.
While I open your legs
I see them beat in the interlining of heaven.
It is enough for me to devastate your body
to get to the bright bang
that will flood distant stars,
While I talk dirty in your ear
and there is a boil somewhere
in the autumn afternoon.
We ended up panting. Heaven
He watches us curious as he retires
You stand up.
You brush a strand of hair from my forehead
You kiss me softly on the lips ..
In the distance
orgasms are enclosed within a cloud
waiting for our tenderness,
maybe simulated death
and in any case
another sculpture of love
over the streets.