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The drunken boys

Yesterday, if my memory isn’t wrong,
they were going down to the river,
some drunken boys
hollering out with the voices of men.

They went by slashing the hot breeze
in a cloud of dust
that, from time to time, proclaimed
the dark outline
of thunder.

They went running
through the suburbs
of the sky
while their throats burned
with a forgotten taste
of bitter wine
and it was dawn.

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© 2009 Jorge Palma - -