Last night very late
I left her house
and forgot my hands
in her hands.

Since morning I’ve felt a strange tightness in my body.
If I had my hands
I’d light a cigarette
and take several deep drags.

Just beside us 
a flock of days 
is passing.
This must be the holiday of days — 
never have so many days 
been seen together before. 
A straggler
faces us, childlike,
staring wide-eyed
as though we weren’t human beings
but stuffed apes in a museum.

On the grave of my hunger
my mother placed the lamps of her milk
and on those offerings
I nourished the snakes of my eyes.
I twisted a rope of those snakes
and performed my tricks on it.
On the taut rope of the snakes of my eyes 
hanging like a monkey
I have lived my life until now.

The slope of the church roof
is so sudden and unhindered
that only by turning into claws
 could the believers’ hands
save their regret
from tumbling off the roof.

Between grass and sky
is an invisible wave of light
so sharp and shining
that only things very near us
can be seen without a great effort.
Squinting into the distance
one can make out just a blank screen,
 empty, like a soulless soul.

The passengers on the bus
never realized
that the solidarity between road, wheels, and themselves 
is far stronger than their belief. 
They, 
like the road, the wheels, and the driver,
will never reach their destination.