28

I remember flipping
and their words escape any sense like birds
fly upwards in repeating music
We poured, like water, through the garden
to the front gate
I close my eyes
I want to remember this smell
Want to be in everything like a child
Child’s eye looks down a dirt of park, leaf,
bark of wet tree, how dark and wet, I put
hand to trunk, feel friend there, old, huge,
wet, I never used to look at people
just down, or at a tree, or up
but looking up (like Rudy, In Rio I looked
up and saw pink building tops, people
in corner clubs standing drinking coffee) is good
but so is looking down, I try to remember
this smell, of this instant, so sweet
will I be able to? it brings another time, friend
who also like child stared intelligent
lost in a dream of architecture or history
or color, each sight approached his open mouth
where I tired to put my sensations that time
and I remembered my first impulse was to tell something.
With child mind I stop my walking
Just look, hear the actual sounds (not mental ones)
I don’t believe in a golden age
I won’t make anything that’s been made before
I confuse the smell with the smell of my lover
Alameda Gabriel Monteiro da Silva
“Beijo Partido” on car radio
I think I know what I have to do