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“Of Trips, Of Fires,” by Edgar Rincón Luna, Translated by Toshiya Kamei
Of Trips, Of Fires“Only strangers travel owning everythingI have nowhere to go”Leonard CohenI drink a cup of coffee
you drink a cup of fire
behind our eyelids
two tears hit like rain
old photos go through the dust
a cemetery of ashes
a patio filled with our old cadavershave we really built this wasteland for us?
is the tattoo of sand on the skin ours?