Recreation

Take your feverish breathe away. Palabrería inútil. Landscape of death.
Demolished stars that offer fake colours of rain.


I saw Salvador running to his house. I've seen Salvador every day. Salvador does not dream with a white house and a large yard. Salvador quiere jugar a la reata y correr a treparse al árbol de mango. My Salvador is not Joseph the dreamer. My Salvador cries each night, before going to bed. Salvador no conoce otro cuento que el que dibuja en la tierra seca, without yellow grass, de su barrio. My Salvador is not worried about his brothers, this Salvador imagines a big red ballon that takes him to el pozo. Salvador does not want to swim in a fancy turquoise pool. The Salvador that I know no es un angelito, he stole las canicas del vecino: the blue one, the red one, and the other one that is green and gray como los ojos de su gato. Salvador does not know his name. My Salvador is only six years old and he does not want to be a savior. This Salvador take las migas de pan entre sus manos y corre fast hasta the end of the sky, looking for squirrels and blue birds. Mi Salvador, se para de puntitas en la banqueta y sueña, sueña que corre hasta el otro lado del highway.