Get Up, Federico.You are a flattened tireGet Up, Federico.
folded over a hanging wire
like a Salvador Dali picture
Of the clocks melting in the fire.
Well,
Isn’t it avant-garde, How your posed in such a way That your body is displayed
To soon be sold away. Get up, Federico. And go home.
I know, We could be
Hangnails of the eyes, Catching the looks of strangers Studying the arm around my shoulder Shielding children’s sight
from the wonder…
And, yes, I maybe be into theater,
The attention and dramatics, But I’ve got
--
:]
Previous PageNext Page