Athens, February the seventh of two thousand thirteen

A long day is perishing, its dawn was short, its rain perpetual and its air heavy,
And I think it is a shame that you are not here with me, now that I look my watch and its 6 o’clock in the afternoon.

I have the stark feeling that Athens was much,, much more yellow with you here,

now that in my magic eyes are candles, and in my head bells, and that I listen the tachycardic throb of this keyboard,
being punched with rugged fingers for almost 3 pages, now that I see the clock and its 7 already,

I pop my knuckles just to harvest some cassavas for you, and briefly, I found myself judicious.

Because, today as always, and also as ever, I think it is a shame that you are not here with me…

My left foot aches like hell and I think about which running shoes I will buy, then I cherish the time we bought your brown running shoes and then, wonder the ones I just picked will like you, because
Maybe, in that near and also far day of fall, I will be using them, when I met you again.

Maybe then I will watch into my cellphone and, being 8 p.m. already, you will say  “Hello, my love” while walking toward me … and I will say “Hello, my heifer”… And we will stand right there, both of us… me, stained with the green sea color of your glaucomic eyes, and you, with the blue stain of my banished loneliness.