You told me :
\'\' See you tomorrow ! \'\'
But before tomorrow
there will be a night
and in the great book ,
my name may already
be written by the elegant pen
of an ethereal creature ,
perhaps angel or demon ,
probably both at once ...
Accountants of our faults ,
applied to the clarity of their records .
Angels are trusworthy servants
who do not omit any names from the list ...
But they know nothing about tomorrow
and their moments are but the eternity
of our farewells...
You arranged to meet me ,
how we say \'\'Hello good bye ! \'\'
I\'ll wait for you at the \'\' Café of life \'\'
Among the distracted onlookers
fiddling their smuttyphones
as one mechanically makes love
to an organic doll ...
I\'ll read your obituary
on the broken hearts column .
You left me the lagunas of a novel
that tells the story of a maybe,
a never, sometimes a guitar in the rain...
Here,I am ,fragile as a foundation stone
deprived of roots...
Can angels dream ? They never sleep
and do not bear the weight of the day after...
Vincent come toward me ,his crippled
selfportrait scribbled like a child\'s drawing .
He smiles sadly ,whispering to me :
\'\' See you tomorrow ! \'\'