I spend a lot of time
In the garden,
Because there are
Your marvelous succulents,
Open like roses,
With their tails wide open,
The sparrows
That shake the twigs
Remind me of the swing
Between your arms,
My voracious tentacle
And the aureole of your chest,
Like an ethereal plume,
Moctezuma in his dreams,
Iridescent, perpetual
On the canvas of time.
I think about you so much.
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