Involution

First

learning to swim                    a cap flying off

a bite of watermelon waving   at the planes
facing                            the intermittent light

of the lighthouse   there              I just saw a

shooting star                                            there

is something entangled on my hair            a

pine needle                              forming a nest
like the sparrows              under my balcony

learning to hold a stick               at the mini-
golf                      the ball goes off the course

and myriads of midges run       towards me

on recently cut grass             beds of granite

stained with lichen     and some bush twigs

and branches           are the perfect hideout

seagulls                                   circle the stone

pines I go around with my              mix tape

listening to Roxette   appreciating the look

of roasted chickens spinning and sweating

their fat              shredded     on a Provencal

mantelpiece                  I sell dry sea urchins

and        coloured salt bottles         treasures

I have threads in my pockets     readymade

bracelets                    two colours a hundred

pesetas                  and a bikini under a blue

cotton dress     with a chocolate madeleine

in my bag                          my mum loves me

in sugar             I wrote my name on the lift

with a heart         and an arrow pointing up

a cap flying off                                   I whistle

to the  corner shop walking by the big pool

the small pool                           the pool table

where people drink vermouth            I once

stood on the highest board       right across

the terrace with a silvery cup            I loved

running and winning and     I did and won