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The whisteling wind; the mother trees dancing until stripped of their leaves and left naked to welcome the winter.
Rabbits that dropped from the sky; still continue to fall on my roof. I am being watched with hidden cameras, as I hide beneath my bed; away from them and the light of the cross.
Soviet birds that crawl the dust are aiming for my white balloon.
Multiplied satellites made out of human flesh are sent out to stalk me in my alien tracks.
Pretty dolls with a book for a brain and a cherished love for superman have grown donkey ears.
The days are given short shifts; the sun is away for Christmas.
The cold nights crawl in and windows freeze; as naked women rattle their cells.
People flying in the air; crows and foxes selling marijuanna in the name of peace
a whale in my shower has finished my soap; it has taken all my shampoo.
a sick chimp has made a jungle out of my flat and is swinging off imaginary ropes.
A pigeon with a broken wing is laying in my bed; reading from the jerusalem post.
American churches baking tarts for both their black muslim president and white jewish god.
Cigarretes without filters and filters without tobacco, lost identities labeling themselves in the name of enternity.
a generation of marrocan cowboys in cheap winter coats with ferm is playing music tonight inside of a bus; with sticks for drums; and knifes for guns.
I sit in the dutch indian livingroom raising an eyebrow to a christmas tree; and I can't help but be drawn to the trees outside of my window.
Gulls are hovering tomorrow's bright sky and a flying cloud of cotton is passing by like the historical ship before she was burnt for scrap.
The news announce a ceasefire; and while I did depart from the blind darkness beneath my bed
Amsterdam is by now covered with dead rabbits; its middle finger with its thumb; the dead with the living, the dam with their dam.
Rabbits seen floating along the canals and in church; rabbits piled up causing traffic jams; some crushed by wheels and some crushing lives.
And I, I am the only one that can I see them.

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Pablo Neruda

If You Forget Me

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