sometimes I miss you so much that everywhere
I look is you behind the sunflowers' silhouettes
that bloom in a garage. your eyes are silent as if
you are wearing a helmet and it ends that
everything that comes out my mouth is
dust 'cause I constantly become
the distant father of the world. your beauty is
gasoline spilled on the curb: I don't think
I can bear so much love in my industrial blocks.
but it's raining today. I am wet poetry
and it's also you in the opening of sky.