II

 

The first flavor is sadness.

Then you wrap yourself in it and go deeper.

Passersby, having lost their memory,

see a man walk by

with open arms

with his thousand ways

and manners of moving about the world while

in lit-up cities,

among lampposts,

strange admonitory forms,

the second taste, warn him:

“You will not pass.”

 

 

n e x t

 

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