FASHION POEM

                                                It is happening

and I am enjoying it

                                                the roundness of light,

then the colorful sparks, will blink at me

they would be shining in the floor while I walk

               to any point in life

                                                     fashion poem

by a poet who designs his or her fortune

who will be wearing a mariachi uniform

on the roof party of a skyscraper

he or she will play the trumpet

to a young lady that listens, or listen to you

                                            the whole secret plan

regarding the project      of  printing poems

                                                   in the 1 dollar bills

Standing on the edge, not for a suicidal jump

                               just to see the cenit of you all

looking down         in the streets from the top

and paying atention to           the fast humans

                                                                         who deliver food

the neonative american continental indian

prevail on pedaling bycicles

                                                                        aquí en Manhattan

                                                          where fluorescent jackets

are unseen by the standars of the beauty                       $

who catwalk  on the streets and gangways                $$$$$

                                                                             as a job, but at home

                                                     they lay down and get to sleep thinking of me

No one shall be hangry Sir,

we deliver poems and food

You guys are the poor of effort, this is why we are here, even with snow storms and rain

                                                             even with low pay and no health insurance

                                        this is why we are here, so you can keep the exploitation

enjoy your meal!

 

I do not identify myself as an northamerican, or

I do not think I have a type of vanity of belonging here

but with them…

the delivery man and soon woman,

I see myself riding a bike for a better world

I see myself painting on canvas a delivery man in NYC

I see myself deliverying my poems to interesting readers

I see myself traveling on the road, of course, with my bicycle

Even at night, I will go riding in your smile and for your madness.

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