By Leana Ramirez
How to live when eyes have seen,
The Arabs with their riads, their pearly oils
Rolling on your sun-kissed bohemian arms
Kissed by the same sun as your long-lost friend
Where the Fuji volcano sleeps soundly
The melancholic waters of the sea,
The pearl of the Caribbean, standing still
Before your eyes, eyes like winds, silently,
Surely inciting the most chaotic of hurricanes
The time-eating towers of concrete countries,
The heat of the soil that your bare feet feel
When they, without a doubt, crossed the wilderness
Of the path from your bench to mine
The opaque dust of ice-cold endeavours
The ones that pushed us to vertiginous heights,
Whilst our feet remained blue and our hands
Ever-so pale at the sight of such a winter desert
How to live? My bed is nails and my house is mold.
My clothes are rags and my food is old.
A tramp in my own home,
To roam is dupe gold.