I am looking, I am looking for a container to place the present present
that I carry in my right hand and that my spouse says is called
death or love... or passion, confusion or fear
or a glass of wine or a bouquet of flowers or a letter
that says things about beautiful life in prose
and ends by saying: Forever.
The mistake of my first love
And yesterday night among whiskey stars,
the tiredness of both rests on the hard benches,
you seemed to me like a jar in which to place it through kisses,
through verses and kisses that I do both to you
with my mouth in the shape of a trumpet,
and that it plays and that it plays a note on your lower lip
and the others stay on the tip of my tongue .

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