furtuni

manere se-nchid si deschid
la loc sa-ti cada din maini
printre degete deprinse
cu apucatura ferma si solida
sansa ce o ai in aparenta
doar o data-n ochi.
soare apare pe cer si dispare
in borcane de fier
in care zac in mocirla
soparle-n mister recurent
bonom si dezintegrator
si-apare-atunci o luna
disloata de la locu-n care
melanjul mainilor murdare
de muncile prea curate
si-l implica-n ora de varf
ziua-n amiaza mare.
magarul rumega iarba
si se-nfige bine-n pamantul
ce glia o deposedeaza
de seva si viata
cu sete.

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