When I dive into the sea, I don’t even know if I’m diving into her
or if she’s diving into me
and cleans up
June
and September.
Our Easter and Christmas,
with streaks of sand caught in the hair
and promises wrapped with a bow in the soul.
Let those who wanted it open it!
And jingle bells that only the other soul hears
from the end of the world.
The sea enters stormy anyway,
as an efficient housewife.
And I leave all my drawers opened,
turned upside down and cleaned
until nothing hurts anymore.
Even she wonders at what she finds hidden under bent corners
and slaps me with a wave behind my neck.
Stop sticking the chewing gum to the back of the heart!
Cause look, you fool, it’s getting in your hair
and you shave your head again to escape.
She shakes me, spins me, throws me, pushes me, pulls me;
enters every nook and cranny
and sprinkles salt.
It hurts. It passes.
Turns me inside out
and puts me back.
And only when everything shines
again,
I can finally rest
refreshed
under her waves.
We stay like this for a while.
Me on my back with the sun in my throat
and peace in the mind
and suddenly she feels like dancing.
