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There’s a moon over the street tonight

There’s a moon over the street tonight

(Que me perdoe o Luis Vaz
Esta grande insensatez
Este apetite voraz
De escrever em inglês)

“There’s a moon over Bourbon Street tonight…”¹ but I don’t see faces as no one passes beneath the pale lamplight. “I have no choice but to follow that call…”¹ I have no choice but to follow NO call. No call at all. Bunches of uninvited assorted lyrics, once parked next to past tombstones, rise furiously and assault my mind in a tentative to bring me into a sense state. “I can… feel… one of my turns coming on… “²  I feel… a container for the storm, a boundary between the nuclear explosion and the world, where everyone smiles at me while judging my inner me as I smile back. “Isn’t it ironic? Don’t you think?”³ A little too ironic… and yeah, you really do think!  It’s like… wishing you were here, since only you have the power to make a life out of simple things, but having you just don’t make it simple anymore… “and I feel… cold as a razor blade, tight as a tourniquet, dry as a funeral drum… “². “Just one of my bad days…” or is it a good one? I am not able to tell anymore. They become indistinguishable as I went comfortably numb. I am a container, remember? Now, reduced to the warm result of the extinguished fire after the nuclear rage explosion. Just… ashes to ashes. No more traps in the minefield, but also no more fake plastic trees.  No more “We could be heroes… just for one day…”4  and also no more “nerve to make the final cut…”² .

Romeu ©

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