A Vuelta De Corre

Gentleman of marriageable age,
With a foolish hair, four gray hairs,
The past resolved and eager
You already know what for.
Informal, educated, manageable,
More of a cat person than a dog person,
With two ulcers and an unexplainable
Strong bad health,

Requests, for not so serious purposes,
Lady fond of adultery,
Or young lady, between fifteen and forty,
If she doesn't look it.

The letters to the Spanish Republic,
Today Juan Carlos I Avenue,
With a photo that I prefer
Full body and alone,
Around the corner my letter will go,
In a gray suit and more cocky than ever
Because I have it, how can I say,
Longer than Pinocchio.

Feminists without banners are accepted,
Cheesy lovers of love
Or pessimists tired of being tired
Of telling me no.

It's all the same to me, a woman with a bad reputation
Or a specialist in Borges and Lacan,
If they don't come touching me with Juan
Salvador's balls.

Ready for anything, even to disappoint you,
Allergic to sports and watches,
With a precocious talent for the art
Of ejaculation.

The letters to Melancholy Street,
Today Alvarez del Manzano Alley,
With two photographs
From last summer,
Around the corner my letter will go,
Where, although thin and pale, I stand out
For having it even longer
Than a Monday without tobacco.

Encourage yourselves, cloistered nuns,
Abstain fanatics and teetotalers,
Passion with breathalyzer tests
Doesn't turn me on.

You can look for occasional lovers
When decadence advises it,
Bring references and let yourselves
Be beaten at domino.

To the interested parties I assure
Maximum indiscretion, no rush,
Good conversation, kisses with laughter
And nights without a future.

Letters to the Boulevard of the Underworld,
Also called the Boulevard of Broken Dreams,
Enclose a couple of photos
Front and profile,
Around the corner my letter will go,
With a pose of a Parnassian poet,
Orphan of having it even longer
Than Cyrano...
De Bergerac.