Menos Yo
Def con Dos
Less Me
Dawn breaks
and you've spent the night half-drunk
between sobs, moans, and complaints
almost inaudible but very annoying.
And on everyone's lips
the same worn-out phrases:
rest in peace, he was a great guy,
damn, we mean nothing.
Yawns, dark circles
crusty eyes, bad breath
and a lot of anger for not getting
a penny of the inheritance.
At the wake
everyone is awake,
but no one feels like
continuing to cry for the dead.
In the funeral home everyone is sad.
At the mortuary no one tells jokes.
Except me, who isn't sad, quite the opposite
because I got a raise for looking good in a shroud.
The brother-in-law hugs the grandmother
and offers to pay the mourners.
The children whisper in a group:
what a suck-up, that guy.
A quick pee, wash your face,
fix the tie knot.
Loudspeaker, last call.
Pack up because it's daylight.
The crematorium revs up
and the cleaning crew mops the floors.
The mourners leave in procession
and us employees enter very pleased.
In the funeral home everyone is sad.
At the mortuary no one tells jokes.
Except me, who isn't sad, quite the opposite
because I got a raise for looking good in a shroud.
