[1] Silly me, Silly all the croaking frogs, Only you stand in the rain amused!

[2] Eventide. Birds arrayed on wires Beads. How to wrap these In sheaves of your hair, billowing clouds?

[3] Afternoon. You come Gliding like a sawn, As sun splits the rain clouds.

[4] A Paris boulevard in autumn red, Your mom holding you. How jealous were those streets!

Some days you are the bird, and some days you are the statue. The question is how to move between the two forms inconspicuously.

How to fold the wings, and place them like a handkerchief in your black tuxedo and sit still under a revolving ceiling fan.

As sweat pours down your face like summer rain, you don't move your eyes, you watch that twitching toe in your shoes that wants to dance salsa.

But then a day will come, you won't know when or how beforehand, when you will say to yourself suddenly, "I have to leave on that airplane."

To where? Havana perhaps, where they drive old cars and splashes of falling plaster decorate the building facades like confetti. Perhaps one has to travel, almost fly, so far,

To arrive at this feeling for gauzy rhythm to seductively move, after standing in the wings for all those days when you are the statue, towards these days when you are the bird.

My heart is taking a plane to your city, Leaving my ribcage, an abandoned warehouse On whose shutters my hands beat time, Like two spoons on an overturned pan.

My lips are riding a rail car to your city, To stand at your corner and panhandle for Your kisses. Meanwhile my mouth opens and closes, Unable to find the right utterance for your essential name!

My sleepless eyes are driving towards your city, Two reddish irises tracing trials on road atlases. My empty sockets fill with rain, become two ponds And wait for your starry body to break their surface.

My restless blood, however is unable to leave. So it rushes in these veins like an anxious cardinal. It is a white toothed brook cascading in these distant hills, where Unknown to itself, it’s always driven towards the unfathomable sea.

My whole ugly duckling body is mute tonight. A mime performing on the quays, waiting for the swans to arrive. How to identify you, among them? I will surely know for when you hold up your body like a gilding mirror my summers will burst into flames!