Another One of Those Nights
One of the brutalities of this civilization: making love
on a summer night with the moon entering the room,
adding brilliance to the sweat and flaming eyes.
The summer breeze blows the curtains.
Cicadas sing their song only lovers can fathom.
Amidst all this that damn cell phone rings
and it rings to its loudest mocking my senses
and everything seems rendered futile.
It just makes me envy the life the caveman had.
Early Morning. Macau
In greasy clothes,
wait for the bus.
From time to time
the cold breeze comes
with its usual whisper.
Crows, silent, and sleepy too,
patiently stand nearby.
What do they wait for?
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