The last time when I fell in love,
I was counting in the wrinkles on your belly,
The ages of hunger, and of overweight…
It was lunchtime,
when I proposed.
You were too old,
and too slow
The rest … is haze.
I just stood there,
Waiting for the first lightning,
To bestow on me the shape of time.
Carried down by winds to your beginning,
I could see all the future,
Which has already been.
Maybe I just left,
Moved on, away.
And now I’m falling down with other raindrops…
I’m getting closer, close, to understanding…
to a selfie stick,
and 7 billion cameras,
the timeless poem,
the hope of joy,
the breath of life:
When I am done, my love, must promise you will hide me,
At dinner time:
I’ll be another wrinkle on your belly.