do you?

Do you think we have time? The rain stopped a few years ago. The wars started between small villages, the drought advanced, overstayed, prayed upon the minds we killed we robbed we destroyed nothing stopped our thirst. We were the maelstrom. Across the land, they knew our name. They flew before we entered their  houses. We were almighty, we were thirsty, always thirsty.

Wallpaper

Wallpaper of Generals marching through the city. One, two, three and one more time. The Wallpaper of Generals does the rounds, the city under a red mist. The inhabitants close their windows and pray inside.

Beehive

Every Saturday he planted a new tree. A hole in ground digged in the early morning, dressed in his pijamas, he descended to the earth. He dreamt of past journeys. The forest was young, the logs went down the river to the sea. In exchange he brought wine and blonde wigs. A pink sofa in the middle of the room, a piano, he sat down trying to love the girl with the beehive and lovely smile.

Rings

The neighbour's son wears a ring gold on each fingers, he swaggers and smokes a cigar that towers over his fragile carapace. He grimaces when he see us: we are too young, he is already twelve. When he goes to school his escorts open the door for him, look around and a glimpse of a colt shivers across. We like him sometimes, when he offers us whisky and brags about the universal whore.