sábado, 2 de março de 2013

queria.ser.eu.de.hoje.há.cinco.anos.atrás.



Twenty Years Later I Make a Realization About Her Shampoo

What do you smell,
the winemaker asks,
and I hesitate to answer
because it’s an old girlfriend
and weekends in her studio apartment,
milk carton bookshelves
and cracked walls and ceilings
whose stains we pretended formed maps
of countries like Mythica and Fornucopia.
He waits politely
but you can’t say
you smell a lover,
broken plaster,
old jokes,
a life you used to have.

Finally, he suggests,
Grapefruit?
and I realize, yes,
that’s it,
the nape of her neck,
her ears, her hair.
Grapefruit.

[Joe Mills]

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