The cat crosses the lane sighting fresh garbage, the truck
Slowed by the burden of the neighbourhood, coughs forward
Breaking at every shop as closed shutters
Align the street silently

In a house above the bulb strikes, commotion in a foreign language
Its sound mingles with the scent of sausages from the pan
Of the onlooker opposite, under him an old lady awakened by dreams of the future,
the cat is now near the roof, looking down with the fishbone in her teeth
how sad these windows are

And cheap cigarettes are lit with many attempts at igniting a match, the matchbox
Unused since last night is now almost empty
Swaying slowly in the street the smoke lulls the night, adding to the smell of waste
And in a certain moment, the wind suddenly arrives
Taking it all away from us



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