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Allen Ginsberg
Because we met at dusk
Under the shadow of the railroad station
Clock
While my shade was visiting Lima
Old face needing a shave
And my Young beard sprouted
Magnificent as the dead hear
In the sands of Chancay
Because I mistakenly thought you were
Melancholy
Saluting your 60 year old feet
Which smell of the death
Of spiders on the pavement
And you saluted my eyes
With your anisetto voice
Mistakenly thinking I was genial
For a youth
(my rock and roll is the motion of an
Angel flying in a modern city)
(your obscure shuffle is the motion
Of a seraphim that has lost
Its wings)
I kiss you on your fat cheek (one more tomorrow
Under the stupendous Desamparados clock)
Before I go to my death in an airplane crash
In North America (long ago)
And you go to your heart-attack on an indifferent
Street in South America
(Both sorrounded by screaming
Communists with flowers
In their ass)
-you much sooner than I-
Or on a long night alone in a room
In the old hotel of the world
Watching a black door
…surrounded by scraps of paper
04/06/2017
Poema dedicado a Martín Adán tras el encuentro que tuvieron en Lima, 1968