Ouija

I see them coming
a desperate look in their eyes
endless form of lives
that seem to lack any sort
of beiginning
They order black coffee
blended
cut, a tear of milk
spoons of sugar
Custom officers, clerks, plumbers
the elder, retired, college students
the unemployed, arquitects, lawyers,
mothers of invention, state
parasites, mediums, spirits
trying to figure out the day, the world
in a few square metres
Where are they? Here
What´s the time: Now
Who are they? This moment
Staring at the telly, phones
glued on their palms
eyes that seldom meet and
hands that never clap
chita chat chit chat
bla bla bla
It´s time for lunch
stew, salads, chicken, chips
and mashed potatoes
rush through their throats
and dissapear into other places
The world has not changed
The dead and the living
coexist
in the same place
A liitle boy cries
The universe of objects collapses
The orders for more coffee
don´t not alter the pockets
Emotional rescues, binary feelings
regrading, reshaping, hail is
a repetition.
Everybody knows. No one cares.
Master puppets, muppets, toys
crums, table cloths stained
with no meanings
, Ouija boards
mental pornography, small politics
soap operas
Storytelling
in the Cafe school of economics
Why do they walk so fast
and foresaken

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