REFLECTION
I smoked another rollie
As if it were the last thing
I would do,
The smell of toast and the Electric Prunes.
Outside, the sea furiously
Punished the rocks
Like in a romantic poem.
My feet were cold, and sweat
Poured down my forehead,
Like the tears of a child
Who could not find his mother
Among the crowd of a funfair.
And I thought of you,
And what it would be like
To walk down the streets of Bangkok
And get lost in the Garden of Life,
Silently rowing,
Parasol in the jungle.
Fernando Jarabo y Lorenzo