My dog chews things
Like hunting archeological ferocity
Vital and pure

My maid sweeps
Passively the house
Roberto Carlos playing
Sleeping by mistake
The genetic and necessary bandit

My neighbor
Kills the children in his kids
Jealousy, stupidity, I don’t know
Improbable happiness
Roses dieing on a vase

An Indio sells herbs
In the Largo da Carioca
Empty eyes
The edge of the dollar bills
Opens his belly
Digs the asphalt
With teeth, with entrails
Looking for roots
Not for sale

The bricklayer lays bricks
As if building
Imaginary tower
A dreamed muezzin
Will come calling infidels
To the prayers, straighten up
But he dreams nothing

A dog dyes of angst
In Vila Isabel
Neighbor and kids watch TV
A train moves inexorably
Taking its dead
To the night, to the suburbs