You sneak
behind the curtain
& cover your face
with rice powder.
By day, the farmhand's
guitar
by night, Mats
mandolin.
I should care !
Your illusion,
sun,
is to make the garden
turn Technicolor.
Adios, sun !
And don't forget who loves you:
the snail,
the little old lady
on her balcony,
& me...
spinning my heart like a ...
top.
Like concentric waves
on the water,
with the sun on the top.
Your words
in my heart.
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