2017.08.18.
Buenos Aires New York
The sky is a highway, the city smells of formaldehydeMetal elephants and concrete mountains
Nauseating police officers, a pyrotechnic show
The theater is full and death is the curtain
They want to throw you in the psych ward or keep you in a crate
The piranhas with ties will wring out your heart
It’s hard to walk with shit up to your knees
They can fuck up our path, but they won’t stop us
Not today, no, no, not yet
They have offices, I only have you
Honestly, not even your smell remains anymore
It turns out that I miss your screams, your insanity is my motor
It turns out that I miss those kisses that always say no
Trams in Saavedra, pens and bandoneon
It seems I never knew New York
Your Porteña accent, crows around us
And this smells of Buenos Aires New York
Your purple shell, worm watch
I’m dying in Buenos Aires New York
The sheep dissolve in the shepherd’s stomach
A bittersweet satellite flavors our show
A bag of skeletons sponsors the guest
And picks his teeth with hospital patience
[Un naipe sobre la mesa, me carteo una ilusión
Grito truco a los recuerdos, falta envido y faltas vos]*
The streets are a swamp, baby, you’re my louvered window
Smiled for the picture, then said, “glu, glu, glu…”