Wait a minute. Here you are. Stired by music coming from a car
the jacarandas on Avenida Dom Carlos curve and dance.
From a window open the music floats to both sides of the street.
Two dogs trace the forgotten track and remember as they face, unvisible for both of them,
the jacarandas and its pleasant grace.
The smaller one, a dog pitched with black and red, takes it quiet. Philosophisms cool with age.
The other, bigger, more hairy, feels a deeper need. More deep indeed, sir.
Oh yes, deeper indeed, coming from the deepest deep, deeper indeed than any other deeper deep.
Philosophy, sir, if I may say so, took a staircase on my breath.
A dove came and with the dove a pair of shoes. Stepping from the ocean through silent wind
the jacaranda aged,
and girls, beauties I admit, studied the unforbidden. Poetry not even thought of then,
that of the fattest bird,
that of crimes undreamt,
that of the absolute and its fattest thruth
and the statues that came from that.