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.