domingo, 12 de diciembre de 2010

This is my wish

This is my wish.

I'll die at fifty-five
right after my first son
finds out
that life is made of cotton and
then I'll die

when white-ragged maiden
coming after me
waving hellos and goodbyes
Finally will stop,
at fifty-five
cotton and wood

then I'll die

Right after, I'll ask my friend
Why are you around?
thinking both do not deserve
"I'm here eleven million years ago"
he'll say
"waiting for you, since you were zero
years old"
as mormons supposed to say...
etereal and now,
not eternal.

Then I´ll come back to life
when my son will wake up
asking me why our names are the same.