Today I continue to be sad
as if I had died
looking at the fungi of depleted uranium
spreading through the bodies of children
while I listen to Tartini
as if he were a memorable man.
Today I continue to be barefoot
on my city’s streets
without friends, and no one
to wait for me at home.
My loneliness is so deep
that I sit down and listen to birdsong,
and no longer want to be here.
There’s nothing removing my annoyance,
nothing allowing me to relive my love.