WEBVTT

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And the last of these is a
self-portrait as still life.

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The newspaper on the
table confessing its lies.

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The melon decided,
plump unspoiled.

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Trying to forget
that it was ever

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wrapped up in anything
so scandalous, so banal.

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Already out, the
knife, confident lover.

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It smiles, it knows how
attractive it is to sunlight.

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On the wall, a guitar in
shadow remembering hands.

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I don't come into the picture.

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Our poet's fellow exiles it's
your scene now and welcome.

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You take up the guitar. .

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You cut up the melon.

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But when are you going
to roll up the newspaper,

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swat the flies, take
out all the garbage?

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Mañana, always mañana.

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[APPLAUSE]

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