waiting

the sun fires outside
men do not talk at this hour
rest dusty
and maybe dreaming

oily boiling light
yellow white
grass hot air

shadows cut the street
cars like colored stones
the old hat woman
talks to the chicken

the only

here
standing
and
waiting

the red flag has no breeze
the Party is in siesta
with some red wine
caramelita

fan zealot
to move the air
propelling
colonial engine
and the cat
there
sleeping calm, no dreams, feline

is earth heat
that
fuels the fools
in Holy Land

i think
with the fly
crazy green with no way out
crossing Descartes charts
with speed and turns
buzzing

smoke, cigarette
hear in the distance the lorry flipfloping behind the road trees
traffic
usura up up in the road

A las cinco de la tarde
we, now, have to think
'cause the world is like a bull
cutting blood and flesh
killing

above,
the Sol
furnace jet
vibrating

flames of gold liquidity
solid virile
stir
the

waiting

Zipf productions