Scarlett

Hot, closeness.

Windows close, the water of air-conditioning paints the street with lazy stripes.

You look distant, I follow you.

The blacktop is blending under my feet, step by step I came back to the starting point.

I raise my eyes, you laugh, you already knew. Here there are no starts.

I am asking me if is possible to live without sky, the moon dies behind a skyscraper.

Far away an odor wakes up my mind, while the river is cleaning our bodies.

Empty bottles of our memories became the stage of a party. The smoke is scratching my eyes.

I try to breath, but I hear just noise.

Trees, instead, are living, happy and suffering to give us shadows. They silent are waiting our end.

You asked where we were going ?

I hope nowhere.