I offer tanning sofa in front of unused four-poster bed and
still a heartfelt toy.
I trade the sky for clay and all the seas for autumn that can tell.
I trade the stories of A Thousand and One Nights for the abundance
of desert, never read to the end or told.
But who will trade all this for the goods that I have never, when
my sky is merely a vault? I borrowed it from the tree, and I call
a sea a sand-filled lagoon, corner for retreat, where memories,
voices and forgetting names from one hour to another.
I preferred to exchange the highest and lowest lows of this rich
world for at intersections and stairs, but without railings, against