I dreamed I was a disk on which
the story of my life was being burned

as I was spinning
I was giving new sensations
to the writing sheet
the chandelier
and the other things in the room

I was spinning
and spinning
and the needle harrowing my memory
was getting closer and closer
to the tiny hole in the centre
where I would forget everything unexpectedly
and be just like the writing sheet
the chandelier
and the other things in the room

I was a nice boy
at the cinema, all the blonde girls
sat next to me
running their fingers through my hair
looking me in the eyes
showing me different ways
to drown my happiness

I did not know you back then
not even a window predicted
that you would start to overwhelm me
with such bitter affection

just a dog
which I still call in my mind
hoping he would come and wag its tail at my feet
that dog was the only one trying to heal me
licking my palm
the fool thinking, just like me,
that the lifeline was a wound

in a thick milk bottle
a dark green one
which grandfather found on the beach after the war
having inside a shriveled yellow paper
without any drawing
without any inscription
the grandmother's ashes stayed for a while

grandmother being skinny
the bottle was almost empty
so the grandfather put the paper back in place

when he missed her
he took the bottle
put it on his chest
and spoked to her
and when my grandmother had to answer him
he was turning it like an hourglass
and so he did for two years
until he crouched too
(although it was harder
because he was hefty)
in the milk bottle

then
to make room for him
I finally took that sheet
and I stuck it on the window

when it rains on the sea and it's lightning
on both sides of the paper
two overlapping palms can be seen
one of a woman
and the other of a man
crossed in filigree
by a single line of life

nothing else

the only tattoo I still have
and that I will never erase
it's my mother's face
left on my right arm

since then
every baby I take to my chest
calmes down and falls asleep immediately
cheek on cheek
forehead on forehead
all four eyes closed
dreamers

get closer
don't be afraid

I know you're a woman and you're cold

I'll close you up to my chest
I'll warm you up

like I did with my heart

usual autumn evening

I'm sitting and looking at an old lady
who feeds the pigeons directly from the palm

her smile reminds me of grandmother's mirror

I always wait
like emptied of memory
the moment her seeds ends
and shows me her pinched hand

just on the life line

in this restaurant
I've never been
your hands are drier than mine
in your eyes the streets get lost forever
in mine they still have life

the brighter your face is
mother
the sadder is mine

like when you told me not to lose hope
because you'll be able to fly someday

calm
like a bird
caught in the shot of the gun