Body

We will be like a chance encounter
A key that delimits the periphery
An oven where bread bakes.
A seagull slowly roaming
the school courtyard
, punctual.
A letter v like a biscuit that accidentally
slips into the coffee.
If I had met you earlier,
I would have invited you to sit on a terrace
in Malasaña.
And as we savoured a cold beer,
the dust on the table would have scattered
to make room for the traces of your fingers
Nestled in an iron chair with a backrest
of goose feathers,
we would have deliberated
on how to continue a conversation
that would end before noon.
The neon lights would still be flickering,
preferring the scent of winter
and the remaining rain.
I would have entered your house
through the balcony,
trampled your geraniums
and the rosebush.
I would have noticed that the curtains
were blinds and
the blinds my gaze.
You wouldn't have been surprised
by my presence. But crossing your legs,
resting your head on your hands,
you would divert your eyes towards
the computer, the television, or your mobile.
You would notice that your body
has dissolved into a swarm of threads,
microchips, or fibres.
Yet your heart would continue beating at a slow,
almost imperceptible pace,
a long tranquillity would invade your eyelids
and you would tell yourself that you are happy,
that nothing disturbs your pulse.
I would notice that your cheeks are flushed 
that your hair unfurls like those curtains
that don’t exist, like those geraniums
that leave their fragrance
on the sole of my shoes.
A black dog living with dementia
would lick your feet with love.
The colour painted on the walls
resembles a vanilla milkshake, 
the winter would have passed,
leaving a sun-weathered,
made of sand.