Wednesday, August 02, 2017

The roof





The roof 

place where hell burns endlessly, 
where we cure loneliness.

Where men kiss each other
and from their mouths gush 

red rays that bristle legs.
Six wall hangout like heads

that swell in size when it rains.
Where survivors laugh

while the voice of an angry boombox
blasts. On those 2x6 large frame walls

I treasured life like a trained bird,
filled my hands with its blood,

loved a man while dancing.
He loved me back 

between unnumbered glasses 
of Dom Perignon.

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