The clouds are approaching -
they will squirt
water out of the large cavity.
My shelter won't resist.
"- Call someone, for god's sake!"
The wind now, trembling
and unsatisfied -
sky has no patience; thus for,
this image
is blowing into my eyes: the rain in
the shape of a monster.

Across the block,
a light is exploding
into some fading details; there are circles
of dust and water.
Those keep me alive -
an impulse
which travels through me.

I always think how
I would watch some few birds
rising from the street trees, stepping over
Metropolitan church
and then staying somewhere
on the roof
of any block, all alone.

This night is a lighthouse
buried in the sea; hope
I am not that speechless pirate,
crazy enough to replace his hand
with a hook, oh no!

Sometimes I have that
strange impression
that someone comes to my window
to see
if I am still here; and then, some birds
are flying above the trees: power.