Where do I stand and where do you? Seems like
we've lost our approximately and you don't know if
the left yields the right to the right or vice versa.
Shifts become less frequent and rounded out
and edges are not yellowish-brown as happens
with fruit - oranges, you'd say, and pears.
Friction is something else come loose from copulation.
Without an ergo of orgasm or extasy
things exhaust themselves, and form immersed in rhythm
complicates the substance, readies the dose.
The one who for someone was everything is not much.
Saturated pockets which no one will go without.
Even the one-handed can work magic and chromate passion,
concentrating into a knob the public's aspersed excitement;
but could it be that the one with the mechanical throat
inspires trust among the living?



Edoardo Cacciatore
Italian Poetry 1950 -1990
Dante University Press, 1996
Tradução de Gayle Ridinger