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Red + Grey
Witness, the bricks are torn down one
by one today, the locust trees
race along in the heat of the scorching sun.
I hear, the red that walls bleed.
By the clear water ridge I was born: sounds of the water
stream hollow in my ears, but now
the cranes in the sky have the power
of the Midas touch, to turn stone into big red bucks.
Now I turn to leave briskly to the most transparent city
Under the florescent lights, there’s no fireflies
no silent nights, no black and white
In every glow, there’s a red for sacrifice.
So this metropolis moves on and on
while I, spot the grey sojourning around me,
down beneath my feet, up above my head—
Hell, even the concrete jungle right around me.
Born under a Caribbean blue sky,
born next to the grappling green vines,
we refuge under the red and grey
but we seek no solace, we find no tranquil
in the roar of cars, the smell of bars, the neon lights
under the befouled skies, the cunning regime, the electric buzzing.
I can see days passed by me, I hold no grief
the pellucid sky that beams down to remind us,
the glimmering waves splash alongside the howling stone lions
to nudge us, to declare they hold no grudge on us
for the way we turned away, and smile spontaneously.
Witness, I discolor, and the city too.
Together, we meet in the middle, into a harmony of colors
to leave behind the past pains, bittersweet sorrows
and race towards the embrace of the entwining highways
to move along, so life won’t pass me by.
Witness, an old man pedals on his grey bicycle
with ruby cherries in the basket, humming
the tune of delicate delight towards the falling sun,
purple magnolias in the wind fluttering
alongside the whistling locust trees.