The last time I left her house
(She was  not there)
Her things followed behind me in a line. All of them
I said: “where”?
“How big do you think my heart is?”
There was a watch among them
with a brown leather strap, so kind, but stunned, with hanging hands
I picked her up
(The only thing I could do)
It was five-thirty then and still, it is.
Today, however, most of those houses are destroyed
That alley has no longer the magic in its long and twisting sleeve
No doorbell, no window, and no eyes who would shine through it
I say to myself
I wish I could have stolen the time