155
– all day –
puts on the shirt of the lone star
and disappears
– forever –
struggling against the forgetfulness.
As a newspaper that writes
on each page
the crisis and crime of all hours
As a newspaper that wraps
Which
day after day
we forget
as a newspaper
as the perplexed mirrors
of the Amusement Park
are made the flagrant paintings
of Gerchman.
Over there are all
we are
in premiere
alone
in the edge of the world
with all our faces:
the miss the electric kiss
the kitsch the cliché
the blurred kiss of Monalou
reaches me
in the back seat
the Moreninha
merges me
in the window steals-color
that flashes
behind Paramount
the love ignites:
Good night
Lindonéia.