Upside down She looks like a cockroach
She wiggles her paws with technical grace

Needs help to turn

Back with the paws on the ground
She stops on the precipice of the balcony
Looks motionless at the trees from above

As if She already knew where to go,
Or rather as if she knew where not to stay.


Can Bedbugs Fly High?


And without thinking for a moment more
Between the grates, I watch her go away

He told me "I'm here"
I never answered him
I would have loved to do it
I would have loved to tell him that I was there too.


The next day they found him dead in a ditch.


Meanwhile
Two passers-by were talking about filled cakes
"Alla marmellata, alla crema".

Chi gira di mattina
sono i vagabondi e i marciatori mattinieri.
I vagabondi spostano le loro cose da un punto ad un altro.
I mattinieri si preparano alla giornata.
Che potessi essere sia l'uno che l'altro non lo escludo.
Marciatori di mondi vagabondi
che spostano pensieri nell'angolo
dove il giorno non li vede

And the pain makes us write about the pain we feel
In not being able to feel the pain of a love
That will never be born.


Stuck where everything floats and moves away
A red buoy in a open blue sea.

Just a red dot in the blue.
It doesn't matter whether it's a sky or a sea,
but that red dot burns in my chest.
The desire to be anonymous. To feel the desire.
We pretend that there is nothing else outside the time of a step.

And for a moment

I feel like I'm floating like that buoy, on a sidewalk.
While my steps next to yours slow down
and last an interminable time.
I doubt whether I'm walking.

I think of intertwining lives and moments that bring us here.
For unknown reasons.
Something decides to choose us,
Two individuals who need to collide in the course of their existence.
The accidental impact of two moving bodies.  

A Moment.

Does everything fade away after the wait?
Is this why I still remain?  Am I a buoy?

What keeps you tied?
Maybe is the thread, whose existence everyone denies?
The thread you can't see under kilometers of water