A los que parten en el mismo convoyo de la tarde

 A los que parten en el mismo convoy de la tarde

Les pido el favor de llevar algunas maletas

Unos paquetes de humo caribeños 

Ceniceros, porque me carga en mí un dolor

de tirar al suelo 

Los libros que se cuentan sin los pulgares de los pies

es una pequeña muestra de cosas jamás puestas al término

Quizás la eternidad me tenga sin abruptas interrupciones y pueda yo leer y querer seguir

con mi camino 

Los pido que en la ciudad de las luces logren entregar esas vanidades en la calle de las flores, muy cercano de Abelardo y Heloísa en la puerta 33

Les ofrezco un cafecito

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