That's Love

I want to beat the sun in the morning
and feed the street birds
have a small talk with the newspaper boy and ask him about his acne.
Step on the asphalt dreams of a sleeping city that protects us from thieves,
rabid dogs,
hunger and debts and rosaries and pledges.

The street birds fly upon my head happily and satisifed.
The take a shit on me.
That's love.

by nicolas m. soto

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