Some nights I find myself
thinking that you probably think of me
from time to time.
For example, a Sunday, it rained,
and you have wet
feet,
toes,
black hairs on the phalanges
cold yellow nails.
Then you sit on bed
- ninety centimeters and blue quilt -
and you take off your shoelaces
slowly
and think of me
slowly
calling my name
- Alba -
slowly.
