Un poemita que encontré por ahí:

in the planetarium of joy

you can enter barefoot, drunk or naked

everyone’s sipping soda, having picnics

and the entry price includes a lollipop

in the kindergarten of metaphysics

no one knows what this funny word means

they all say thinking is like fishing

and smoke a lot of weed

in the public toilets of imagination

there is always someone looking at your penis

sometimes a nice guy gets knifed

and sometimes a nice guy gets laid

in the brothels of slovenliness

you find lots of nice slovene ladies

they all have hairy legs and bushy pussies

because men love it

in the farm of solitude I found a dog

a hen a goat a cow a cat

had to give up drinking

as I couldn’t afford to buy them snacks

in the supermarket of higher education

I pondered whether it made sense

to buy some fish that was on sale

and then realised it was chicken

but in the armpits of insecurity there is a place

to always fit a thermometer, or a baguette

and the tongue of distress has a spot

that cannot feel salt at all

perhaps that’s why they say things like

cooking is like yoga, sex is like marathon running

and end up over-salting their soups

short of breath when out dancing

oh, the good times, when I felt like throwing

bell-peppers at passers-by

bicycling handless for miles

while pretending to read a book

you know, today I spent the magic dollar

we used to snort some specials

bought gummy bears that cost 0.99

and have your name

had no more money for a postcard

so I wrote you a poem.

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