expired warranty

it was the usual occasion for the season
the last week of summer

they had not spoken to each other in years
not even their eyes met anymore
like trails of airplanes that go
with the same engines on parallel lines,
where who knows

ranging from years adrift
as if their journey could be endless
and like a dog that does not remember how to bark
they watched the silence passing by

it was so long ago they had stopped talking
they no longer remembered the reason for the silence
and they were now resigned to the fact that words
were of another dimension
and that silence was daily bread
but without yeast and salt

in any case better the bread of silence
than an empty stomach

it was the usual last opportunity
the last week of summer

they had not spoken for years
not even their eyes met anymore
soon they would finish their available seasons

that's how many lives come to an end
and many fairy tales begin
under this grey suburban sky

Marco Bo