Tuesday, June 24, 2008

Ashbery ¿UTI?

The room I entered was a dream of this room. Surely all those feet on the sofa were mine. The oval portrait of a dog was me at an early age. Something shimmers; something is hushed up. We had macaroni for lunch every day, except Sunday, when a small quail was induced to be served to us. Why do I tell you these things? You are not even here.

1 comment:

szalvador said...

Y gracias al ZSEVBO por el link