Like a singer at markets and cantinas
forever repeating the same songs,
I recite my poems to the ocean.
The waves muffle the murmur of my voice
and the sea foam splashes these pages
like a wad of spit from the water and rocks
at my vanity.
Thus I imitate the singer's gesture
when I point my guitar at the audience and say:
“No applause, just coins,
No applause, just coins.”
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