Cavalos Calados

The thermometer recorded,
the nurse confirmed,
my apparent death, my luck, my shirt torn on my chest, dripping diesel oil.
The clock alarmed,
the TV announced,
my death, black and white, your luck, and your tape no longer sticks, the eyepatch is not enough, I have one more between the hairy legs, eyes and outstanding antennas.
My wrist didn't pulse,
the device accepted,
my apparent death, your luck, my voiceless throat.
I wake up semi-lucid,
between death and death,
remembering where I lost my bold tongue
through deaths,
through lives,
through avenues,
through the Ave Marias sung in chorus on my guitar.
Through the streets without ground!
My body has two thousand and something silent horses...