A Mi Cerrada

I arrived when everything was an endless field
and the closed street bordered the garden
of my house like an extension
of concrete that marked a path
towards the world.
And when the drizzle didn't stop
my bike next to others'
took me in and out of the mud
and the street was like an ocean
that had to be crossed.

When the street filled with boys
and the lands with houses and rooms
with decent but indifferent people
I thought that one day it would be the same again.
And it turned into a residential area
with new cars and asphalt streets
and I felt nostalgic
to look at my closed street
so quiet and silent
that now was a meeting place
for a bunch of arrogant kids
who talked about a world
so unknown to me
that I felt it had to be like that.

I had a girlfriend in a sunny summer
I joined civilization
to love and other simple moments
that fill the time of the older boy,
I remember when I came back from work
my house was a light in the darkness
and my closed street a private road
where I could sink into the night when arriving.

And then they came to look for me
the street, the night and what's behind
under this so sad sky
that always dresses in gray at dawn
and I got used to the wandering purr
of the air traffic, to that street rumor
of the cars that exhaustively flow
and never rest.

The city is a dark eternal street
full of strangers who pass by
it's the closed station of a subway
that goes nowhere,
it's a lonely place.

That's why sometimes I think of escaping
but the city surrounded my house
and tied me forever
to its dimly lit streets
that walk on the corners.

Some time ago on my return
I saw my old, reserved and quiet closed street
but today that I looked closely, I found
nothing but a dead-end alley,
a dead-end alley.