The night was black.
The moon was white.
Between the night and the moon, the prismatic membranes of my soul played the cords of a lyre.
Diaphanous tones kissed the air.
The moonlight passed through my soul.
I heard the aromatic pulse of the earth.
I lay on the ground.
Rays of colors played on my shimmering body.
Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, violet:
my rebellious red blood – contaminated with verses – ran from my heart to yours;
the smell of orange trees bloomed in my hair like in those forgotten Sunday afternoons in which we used to make love;
i saw the eternal pregnant egg yolk – heavy as the promise of a tropical passion night- the imperishable yellow from around your finger
a green iguana blinked and opened its “third eye” inscribing on my thighs the fairy-tales of the women you loved.
a bird gave me the evil eye: children’s fingers colored in blue hung on the Hand of Fatima trying to protect me;
it smelled violets; caressed by languorous leaves i fell in the autumn kiss in which we first met.
I turned around.
My naked body touched yours.
Between your skin and mine the sensuality of colors grew aromatic gardens