O climb ye to the highlands
For there you shall see
A baby llama with snow white fur
Gateway to the sun
Creator of all fragile and vulnerable elements
Do you not see the dried snot on their faces ?
The white crust at the corners of their mouths ?
How they thirst !!
This is our plea
For high are we
Jumbling carrots he pretended to know intuitively
A past was forming
Away from the courgettes and the aubergine clouds
Wavering above the hamburger stand
A wickety wackety giant-sized bun
Atop the clattering van
Rooftop people waiting
Fire burning with no condiments in sight
A masked broiler snickers between the crimson flames
A man yells emblazoned with fires of the past
Youth shadows spread along the awning
A young pigioen landing and shitting in your
Coke with lemon