under this gray suburban sky
the patience of listening tells me that
the common sense thinking is the good fruit of experience
cradled on the little net of what I learned
I listen to this song of passion
and wait for the new day to come
at the intersection with the possible in this corner of the universe
perhaps a slap or a caress
will remind me that under this sky
there is no intelligence that is not artificially harmonized
Marco Bo
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