Fruit Flakes

Open doors and
deserted houses are
things that appear
to us sometimes.

Like the beginning and the end
of some days.

As if we had
cut all the flowers
and left to turn to dust
any and all fruit
under the furniture.

As if every day
we got out of bed and
throw the rugs in the trash.

As if all the cereals
had already expired.

As if any desert
always had the doors open.

Sat on an old sofa
to pass the eyes
by the same eternal series:
Dragons that become teenagers
who travel through time to become
robots that slay dragons

Sitting on the sofa that smells
like molds that sprout
in forgotten cereals.

Sitting in a warm room
watching over a stranger
that was run over at your door.


PAR