1933

The poem says go away
Stop reading me
I've had it with you
Looking for a moment
Of architecture
Paleontology dream
Boob empanadas

There is no grace machine
To polish your urges

And what you believe
Tints your experience
Parasol entanglement
Everybody roofed
By the roaming cars

You want me to be
A straw into the soul

I'm a strip of cloth
Still warm where
I was torn