It’s four o’clock,
coffee is served,
I drink it in just one sip
and then I run to catch the bus,
if I arrive late today I will be fired,
the warnings are already so many
that they do not fit into my personal files anymore,
– one more fault
– I was told –
-one more slide
¡and you will be lift up
to the unemployed’s hell!
It’s four o’clock in the morning
and my wife; wrapped
in its cocoon silk
– that baby-doll that had cost me an eye of my face –
Would she dream with me?
What matters whose she is dreaming with!
While I still am the gardener
of her plant of hair …
I’d better go
before the cash rolling human cargo
leaves me at foot.