Litkicks Message Board Archive

Late in the morning

Posted to Poetry




We ask about the end
while driving south
something we´ve talked
the year before.
Sabato´s thoughts
small houses in the right side.
It´s hot
and I open the window
airy sounds
instead of the local radio.
We wonder if
what we are seeing
is corn, wheat or soya.
Maybe there are cows
-you say-
and I don´t know
if you notice
that you are
so
damn
beautiful.