Cicada two

 

 

 

 

The deafening cicada noise booms
the heat that I avoid going into
the exedra, under wisteria shadows.
The life that I escape dries me

Paranoia I see into myself:
I shun any chance to not be lost.
In the air scorched powder dries up
anywhere becomes torrid in the world

 

July, 1st 2015

 

 

That day, after almost seven hours, in my car, back to home

 

go here for the Italian verson