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are a crazy ever lost someone called me that way
truth I can not remember who was

but I've always felt the need to check my address so I
about the streets - even in Manhattan - where the streets are so obvious as I read
once in a newspaper "Lost in Manhattan is not possible"
but I've lost several times in the same place but it seems I'm not the one others have suffered the same fate
as you said a friend, is the time to me the obvious
left temporal simultaneity thinking and memory resting

belong to the race of the memory simultaneously reminding them millions of strange things - sometimes no one remembers and that only we remember - but do not remember in which floor or work
who had to call or where is Park Avenue (it was a really regrettable lapses)

'm melancholy attached to the margins of the season
if the weather is not the moon mandatory
write some urgent report lead me to blame the sack towels books laces everything in the room I make my restlessness guilty of my lack of concentration / to look for the inexorable loss of time in the blue / commonly known as flogera

NY
the deep fades of heat through the maze of streets to feel the whisper of the air conditioning on the train every day
makes me a perpetual hoarse
see through the window at the darkness that reflects the faces of other passengers becomes a tautology
sometimes imaginary - at certain times - I find the same faces
I can guess that the fat striped tie is a clerk and lives only because it takes half a different color or because their clothes are wrinkled redhead
the nerve which is located on the corner always live with someone who's harassed by the variety of cuts and bruises showing the two mulatto
speaking very strong and are desperately Housekeepers drink water from a house where not allowed to talk or drink
and many more that come and go every day


look out the window part of a routine which we must travel by subway every day for an hour
to review ads, meet waiting passengers, the homeless
and waiting for the singer on duty in each car
absorbed in the daily shows
I look forward to a break in the emptiness of
then go through the 42 of Bryan Park to see the shift
musician but a couple evenings peered someone new to the boarding
a guitarist who plays old songs from Bryan Adams - different from the shift -
(watching him every evening at Bryan Park
crossing through the window until the train departed)
strangely ago few days looking through the glass and I found her smile was surprised

I wonder if he was observed or dismissed only because that was the last time I saw him

Bryan Park now is a fate more ... Bryan Adams

without