i want to go back to the mountain where i was living when i was 5.
watching a watermelon grows
waiting till bitter sharonfruits get sweet on the shelf next to my toothbrush
picking up some thorny pollens of chestnut
stepping on the softness of overgrown weed
listening to the bus passing over the creek
under my heavy duvet waiting to sleep in the fulfilled thick dark night
i was learning how to read
circling the letters i couldn't read on my fairytale books
i don't remember what i was thinking
but i remember that afternoon sitting alone on the veranda waiting my granny to come back
19/09/2009
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I really like the way you write: what you write about and the way you write about it. The poetry of your words is very compelling to me.
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