[listening to] Radiohead [as I remember your smile each time I] talked about god

To Belles Perennis

Play

I cradle your head’s white flower with the same fear that I would feel holding the
universe in the palms of my hands – I cradle your head’s white flower like a
delicate and innocent mischief a kid has built with the pollen of his faith on an
autumn night – I cradle your head’s white flower thinking of the days when your
fresh scent will be a panther escaping towards a reddish neurotic sky – I cradle
your head and its flower with the same clumsy unease of a devastated god that
would play with the birds of his heart waiting for a compass-less sea to sprout
from his chest – I cradle your warm head as if we were the only inhabitants of this
world who don’t have a place to escape to and retract constantly to the rain –I
cradle your head’s mestizx flower over the city and the sun is a broken black
sparrow tied to your name

STOP •

zillions of terrible and beautiful stars falling in my mind like harmless fruits/ it was
our temporal belief: let’s build the sea, the flowers and the silence every morning/
the sunsets don’t hurt anymore as you supposed/ sunsets filled with a drowsy
melancholy and long walks on narrow golden streets/ I used to be scared of your
hands and their warmness/ I confess to you: my bones are less heavy since you’ve
left and it’s hard for them to fill with light/ a delirious sun melting over a people's
melancholy/ ancestral insects come back home daily with faith and delirium/ the
sunsets don’t hurt anymore as you supposed/ what hurts is that insects stubbornly
ask for you on Mondays/ the city grows with the same dexterity that humans have
in feeling lonely on Sundays at six seventeen in the afternoon/ it didn’t rain today

and the sunset brought no news/ the gentle meadows of your eyes burning in my
blood/ I repeat to you/ the sunsets don’t hurt anymore as you wrongly supposed/
now it hurts more to see god sitting in the living room drinking coffee and
listening to Patti Smith until dawn/ god unbathed in pajamas around the house
dragging his pain from the bathroom to the kitchen from the kitchen to the bed
hurts/ god unemployed, with allergies, swearing to never to drink or pet the
neighbor’s cats again hurts/ it hurts to see his tiredness/ the little interest he takes
in life hurts/ but I’m not telling you this for you to worry/ god is strong and I’m
with him/ every day I bring him a chocolate / I sit him in front of the computer,
hug him, we watch malcom together/ until one of the two of us falls asleep/