Wednesday, April 22, 2009

The river ran its course

He was on the yellow sofa flooded with afternoon light.
She faced him
Probing him thoughtfully with her eyes,
Memorising his face gently with the tips of her fingers.

“Reveal something to me”, she did not say.
And he did not.
With a little frown that crinkled the corners of her eyes,
She told him she could not do this anymore.

Sitting in a rocking chair
In the middle of the jungle
While the rain dripped down
And the monkeys chattered
And the river ran its course.

- Palenque, November 2003

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