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■ The oak
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In my family parents use to give names of countries to their children
Let me tell you something about my sister America She’s younger than me Her starred and striped shadow lives here mine lives duskily within her stars We see each other’s blind sandy faces once in a while Burning and blowing phonemes across the ocean She’s always wearing a self-assertive red dress Full of promises and why always anticipation With abusive and violent wave-made lace though I see her already waiting on the shore With her free-spirited polished shoes Wondering at the ambitious and contradictory decay Of an old worker in his overalls looking over his glasses Biting a piece of chocolate caressed by flowers of a coffee tree Whenever we meet to share the latest headlines She will paint the rainbow of charity and war She will be stealthily pregnant with my hopes Keeping them warm soothing them by night Selling them back to me saffron spiced A pretext to start a quest for my own piece of news She’s always free to choose is she To come or not to come to leave or not to leave to fly or not to fly To chase or not to chase horizons Just like me – a hut in the middle of a chicory city
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