.jpg)
Sport 27: Spring 2001
P.S. Blues about the real life
page 131
P.S. Blues about the real life
I was not born in Virginia. My father was a lock of silence on
his lips' doors,
ever since his death I follow him in the back seats
of bus #61.
The memory halts at stops, opens a door,
rings the bell and sways when there is not room to sit.
Under its wheels beats an asphalt heart
and I on the sidewalk's back
continue to whip my heels as a rod.
Translated by Hanni Dimitstein