Nights of Boca Grande

So many times I saw her she was only looking
at the tall staircase the balcony the clothes
the men on the beach with the sea’s
tokens in their hands the corner
with the bar

I never saw that dark something
in her eyes longing for pleasure
the trees the body
the dream on the beach
the ant the rise and fall of the tide
the clock hand turning the search inscribed in us
in a language of triangles and circles.

Traslated from Spanish by Rowena Hill