You, Simon, were the boy; Simon was the night full of confusing, broken songs. Simon was having those red lips that spoke love words. Simon was not going to work the next day. Simon was having that horse smell near the liquor glasses. Simon was Boys Don't Cry at twelve p.m. Simon was a night full of rain while they gave the climate report on the radio. Simon was not knowing if it was Saturday or Sunday or Friday or Wednesday or any other day. Simon was staring at your eyes in the middle of those lights. Simon was not giving a ****. Simon was your hands filled with rain, your tooth full of secrets. Simon was saying I want to make love to you on the top of a high hill cultivated with red tomatoes during a summer morning. Simon was your hair sprinkled with sweat and color lights. Simon was my blue shirt and the cigarettes that were in my pocket. Simon was smoking next to you and letting the blue smoke impregnate in your assassin lips, those red lips. Simon was taking a needle and filling it with your slobber, with your scent and shooting it in my head. Simon was robbing a bank or a train in behalf of you, and leaving that name written all over the walls, the rails, the air, the grass. Simon was throwing up in a bathroom all the whiskey, thinking about you. Simon was writing your name with the rain. Simon was dipping a car in gasoline and whiskey and putting it on fire. Simon was being lonely without regrets in the middle of that bar that smelled like *****, like beer, like loneliness. Simon was you walking between the tables spreading a little bit of your name, a little bit of your scent. Simon was your hands full of glasses, full of coins, full of dreams, full of broken words. Simon was knowing that it was past midnight and that outside it was raining but it was hot. Simon was the taste of your mouth, that taste of road. Simon was dreaming about you in a beach full of children, sand and boats. Simon was a Sunday with you at the beach. Simon was taking you and licking your entire name, your entire body, your entire loneliness.