ahead of us they unroll a new road sticky stench of sweet tarmac in 38 degree heat squinting men in hi-viz wave their flags and say Aspetta i say About Time and Grazie these are the new roads for the new ways the ones direct from Truth  

turned out it wasn't the prince, after all reminded cinderella who she was or even the fairy godmother turned out it was cinderella herself who, one day, sick of the charade washed the grime off her face told the stepmother and all those uglies where to put it woke the fuck up

bird winds the sky rolls the sea out. then in she brings me all her treasures seeds, nuts, shells a bright pink flower from the other side of the world lays them at my feet  i wonder : am i worthy ? she doesn’t know what that means doesn’t care  brings more says: and this 

i touched the bus and then my eye tell me something:  will i die ? 

that’s what I like about trees, fields, land etc they pay notice (none)  - nunca nulla nada –  to the idea that someone owns them mine, his, theirs etc they’re like: que ?