The indifferent avenues and
their noises, my presence
among the naked sidewalks,
a moving through
the days frozen in time.
The urban sector,
an extension of
existence and
everlasting heat;
those who don’t solve
problems in these streets
should beware of plundering
in the eyes of all.
For urban dwellers,
only the world of their eyes exists,
they are too busy
in the stores,
the bird of slowness flies
through dark alleys,
circling in vain
searching for an exit among the streets;
illusions are
falling paper leaves
that the wind stirs and
the sun burns,
a huge landfill.
Perhaps you’d like to take a bus,
or a car that uses
solar energy, back and forth?
The landscape?
Probably beautiful,
Down there,
the hot sectors,
the secondary roads behind
the cathedral, the memories.
Victims of development,
the mobs have fled
to the outskirts of the city,
to the peaks of the land,
invading everything
like locusts.
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