Days have passed

Days have passed like voices,

the useful voices through the air when it fills.

Too many days have passed

to which I speak short circuit.

And thine - those of-

le, from the other, from the other,

other voices

I of them, of them

of me and nobody

from anyone.

Women's faces appeared to me

on the marble facade,

full of december light

and too light to notice

whether young or old, creatures

natural or animal.

The geometries appeared,

the fictions, and all the inhabitants,

sliding neighbors, secret,

cracked by the sliding sun

from mouth to mouth, body to body,

joined real people,

made me a figure.

Counting is the only,

recognize in exact light

the voices that don't seem real,

you want transparent,

innocent or simple –

and make you much more unique

than a single person.