New York

(written before the tragedy of the 11the September,2001)

In the indigo blue chilly twilight
I see skyscrapers hovering like boxes of matches,
Soon they'll spit out people-matches, their sulphur heads blazing,
Burning down their lives, turning them into ashes.
The ferocious wind, intensified by the wild ocean,
Fans the internal flame of the city,
Which is hooting like a giagantic oven.
In Manhattan taxis, like infernal shadows, swish here and there, taking passengers from the world of the wealthy
To the world of the poor.
The night has ascended on the scarce foliage of parks.
Somebody's steps are echoing in the empty street,
Trimmed with gloomy red brick buildings.
There are black garbage bags alonside,
Huddled like mischievous kids hiding from their angry parent.
The plastic is glittering faintly
In the lusterless light of a street lamp.
Asphalt wet from either rain or rubbish
Is squeaking like a rubber boot.
The dark mouth of a hatch is emitting a dim smoke
Merging with the one of a cigarette
And swirling into the blind starless sky.

1999