Back in the days,
when loneliness befriended me and
we got drunk with imagination,
our house became the streets of Guanajuato,
cobblestone alleys,
that were walked by our tipsy
feet.
In that state,
we wandered the rooms aimlessly,
like drunkards, laughing,
almost falling on our backs
while searching on our pockets
for a key to unlock
our madness
But we never found one.
Instead,
we became like thieves
wanting to steal someone's attention.
So when we saw that in the hallway,
covered by a white blanket,
our hands did not hesitate...
[yes...]
---
we rode
the treadle sewing machine
while we got high on fun
speeding and speeding,
turning the wheel,
while sitting on the pedal,
click, clack, click, clack,
click, clack...
the pedal went from side to side.
----
Next time we knew of reality,
we heard the sirens -
mom's voice calling us,
and we were back at home.
