Sometimes I think it’s the end of the world

and while we’re waiting for the decision

on who’ll be the one chosen

to get into paradise, and who won’t

my friend, super impatiently, says to me:

– Leo, I can’t take it anymore.

 

All this blah-blah

about truth and lies, what’s good and bad

I’m just so sick of it, I can’t take it anymore.

(“But Rafa…”)

 

Let’s go on a bender, Leo

and make love, and then another bender

and let’s watch TV lying in bed.

Let’s watch

King Kong’s infinite sadness

as he falls from the highest tower

to the foot of a cliff, and let’s make love

and go on another bender and another, and make love…

Like a beautiful 19-year-old Catullus

who’s got no idea who Catullus is

and… who cares anyway?