The boy's aunts
say,
'm in my experience:
Anecdotes , smoke candle.
A train of women's voices
runs through my veins.
Son of the story;
is the line,
each vertebra
a season.
With this letter
drive my ship,
up this winter day,
that
reached with nostalgia, story
my friends,
stories do not remember,
but I know by heart. ****
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