Trampas 

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We escaped by the hair, the flutter of that belly in a fever that stimulated the desire of the branch to find your panties in a crescent moon. They were nights of wine and the outpouring of excessive desires covered by the lack of protection in autumn parks.

And we sew up the leads melting the spurs of turtles that run through the stampede where the diseased wounds resurface that fade the trees with empty boxes, withered petals in the cement.

Cobs of snails drained from the sticks wrong on the saliva of the brothels of easy blouses, a bed of sips that we drank to lime and song. Cravings of the rib of very death, the breeze that removes the ledge where our one-eyed blackbird barks.

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scapamos por los pelos, del aleteo de aquel vientre en fiebre que azuzaba las ganas del ramal donde encontrar tus bragas en luna creciente. Eran noches de vino y del reguero de las ansias desmedidas que nos cubren el desabrigo de las trampas en parques otoñales.

Y nos cosimos los plomos fundiendo las espuelas de tortugas que corren por la estampida donde resucitan las heridas enfermas que destiñen la arbolada de cajones vacíos, pétalos marchitos en el cemento.

Mazorcas de caracoles escurridos de los palos errados sobre la saliva de los burdeles de blusas fáciles, lecho de los sorbos que nos bebimos a cal y canto. Antojos de la costilla de mismísima muerte, brisa que remueve la repisa donde ladra nuestro mirlo tuerto.


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