Acaso
Luis Eduardo Aute
Perhaps
Perhaps a glance will be enough for me
To look at you and find a word:
Nothing
Your nothing with mine among things
Two infinite silences saying
Joining mouths
Opening the taps
Let our smoke flood the bedrooms
May time not depend on hours
May only heartbeats rush us
Burning clothes
Sweating thyme
Naked, communing with plaster
Losing oneself in a fever without memory
Let no one rescue us from instinct
Breaking parodies
Shattering
Remnants of an absurd ceremony
