rains in Cuba have not have sopaipillas cold
even that of smoking a cigarette under an umbrella
rains in Cuba last a couple of hours, the longest
the entire sky melts in the rain
chuzos Cuba is not like the doomsday
lacks the cold, that feeling soft
is water that falls from the sky
tears are independent of weather conditions
When is winter in Santiago
winter even taxi drivers
and in the Cuban countryside is still sunny summer pa
Even the peasants
The two showers, the young and the old
the sad and absorbed, are soaking me from time to time,
in two different ways to shake hands and leave when I know
arrebalsan wet and face me, every time.
muttered quietly cafe verses long, very long black cigars
as black rivers of mud
the faraway look
Hello, Bon Jour, Ile Bwin Chilean happens you already resolved the plug?
top of my head go flying commercial aircraft
live under an air corridor
sometimes I look up I send orders
long looks over the mountains
words that fall in and take a Turbus pudahuel
get off at san martin-currency, walk a few blocks to the subway
from there to San Antonio, a micro
there and live up to your ear
Crossing lined avenues suicide car drivers who are not like paying
The aroma of roasted chickens, kittens faded china food
The familiar voice of news and lies rotting old minds in every home that is full of other wonders much more discrete
like the smell of toast
or perfumed letters fifteen
In Cuba the rain gives way to a sauna humidity
"hell, is not easy "But I
that if I bring my own shower in the back of my eyes blue
to dye my own winters
this invention beyond the borders
Stations year, somehow, beautiful borders, but borders
summer here
alla winter when I or when not inside
Where
own fall and spring
provided without notice and are swirling without once
