Three years ago – November 1st –
A party of tenacious comrades
undertook a spontaneous expedition,
aiming for the forest’s pinnacle.
Baboo? Baboo, what did I do?
I didn’t say that. I didn’t mean to.
I was running around and my energy grew –
I whistled at every parrot that flew
through the bobbing branches the tired breeze blew.
Better one day with you
than a thousand elsewhere.
That hymn that once seemed so sappy
is all I can hear now.
It’s crazy how I’m still able to wear it, that “polo”
The short sleeves used to go all the way to my elbow
Now they stop halfway there, and I want you to know
I wore it around my neck for a while
this cold chain
of such a dark shade
perhaps to remind me of your existence
I curse these Gods who grant me life
for they have dealt you death.
You who I loved beyond all other comrades,
loved as my own life.
That evening, the weather in Lisbon was adequate:
A cool summer breeze, a shy sunset in a cloudy background.
The mood in the car was a little more contradictory:
When she was healthy,
She was all busy,
Again, she did not take care,
And then she found it unfair .
On my ninth birthday
my grandparents gave me a card
that sang like a robin when opened
and shut up when closed.