Since a row is taking an endless nap...

Since a row is taking an endless nap and

a kiss lasts what a dust particule blown in the wind,

loving is a dead end occurrence, an absurd biology of the body

a blind grammar of being.

And I’m not yet tired, my love, of spreading this you and me

like if I’d be spreading sycomore seeds on a so loved child’s hand

for them to grow inside his veins.