Cyst Hurts When Period Is Coming

The angel of the highways - David Rondoni

(photo: Henri Julien Felix Rouseeau - The Sleeping Gypsy)

He was sitting one night on the guardrail
pitched in light orange
of a great lamp. The fog


wet rancid - -
life, he said,
animal life, as he brushed the massive


caress of trucks that are like dreams on the highway.

I find him more
a gesture that only virgin
that of dawn, said
setting the hands, and cried
idiot.

(I met him a thousand times to return from somewhere

when traveling in his sleep on morartiane

end or tangential vascorossiane
and then break up in burrows, my poor angel

my stubborn and like him - -)
or my life, I repeat and repeat, do not feel the dawn

in bones and joints, but
salt and just the wind that removes
ever, that never subsides.

David Rondoni
The bar time
Ugo Guanda Publisher