Capsa buida

Calor sofocant
Mandra
Desabrigar-se de la por.

Amor
Una capsa buida, desdibuixada,
com la silueta efímera de la salamandra.

No hi ha res.
Res.

El soroll del vagó que no descarrila.
Vies infinites
Vida avorrida.
L’eco del temps que res oblida.
Maletes sense meta
Cossos a la deriva,
esperant ofegar-se en la dolça saliva.
I els dits del timoner
Tornaran al punt de partida.

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