GENI?

The town saluted him with garbage
which he interpreted as praise
for his muscular grace. Orange peels,
cans, discarded guts rained like ticker-tape.
For a while he ruined their nights
by throwing his shadow in moon-full windows
as he spied on the peace of gentle folk.

Once he envied them. Now with a happy
screech he bounded from monument to monument
in their most consecrated plots, drunk
to know how close he lived to the breathless
in the ground, drunk to feel how much he loved
the snoring mates, the old, the children of the town.
Until at last, like Timon, tired
of human smell, resenting even
his own shoe-steps in the wilderness,
he chased animals, wore live snakes, weedsfor bracelets. When the sea
pulled back the tide like a blanket
he slept on stone cribs, heavy,dreamless, the salt-bright atmosphere
like an automatic laboratory
building crystals in his hair.

ECOA TAMBÉM AQUI MINHA GRATIDÃO A SYLVIA, CUJA SENSIBILIDADE AGRADA DE UM TANTO QUE  ME  INSTIGA A GASTAR SÁBADO, DOMINGO INTEIRO (QUANDO NÃO AS NOITES DE QUALQUER DIA DE QUALQUER SEMANA) EM PÉ, SEM QUALQUER CONFORTO, APENAS PARA LHE PODER EXPLORAR OS ESCRITOS.  

MAS, QUANTO A GENI: ESSES ACORDOS TODOS SÃO ESPETACULARES - SOBRETUDO OS INDIVIDUAIS.  AS INTERPRETAÇÕES SABIDAMENTE EQUIVOCADAS, COM O FIM ÚNICO DE SELF-INDULGENCE.  NÃO ACREDITO, AINDA, QUE HAJA NADA MAIS CABIDO DO QUE ESSES DESPAUTÉRIOS, NUMA ROTINA SEM GRANDES ALEGRIAS.  E QUE SE DÊEM DIARIAMENTE, TRÊS VEZES APÓS CADA REFEIÇÃO.