There are many things I don’t understand
like waiting for the hours to be round
one, two, three, four o’clock,
and telling myself I should start

Like now

As I wait

For it to be 1 PM
a round hour
odd
punctual
precise

I do things that I sometimes allow myself
when the long days come
like checking spam
and letting a bot
tell me something about myself that I don’t know

I believe there are many things I don’t know about myself
like a life with stars and crystal balls of the future
a life with magic and hope
or how long and how much without being able to sleep

I’m used to writing wide
like building a wall
so that when you read, you stay in front of it all
touching the edges and sliding your hand as you walk
on just one side of it
without being able to know what’s beyond
but this time it won’t be like that

So,

Suddenly, just out of sheer curiosity
I click the link
take it, sir, a birth chart that says a lot and nothing
and I silently wait for a sad bot
to tell me everything I don’t know about myself

What do I need to do
to tear down my shelves
to remove you from all my things
to not have to write to you
or feel like I need to talk to you

But I realize
that would be starting something
that I no longer understand

Now I just want to show us that we’re
on the right path
to somewhere

Without understanding
and understanding
the beauty
of all this

“On Tuesday at 7 PM
I’ll tell you I can’t stop writing to you”

I say to myself in the mirror

And rehearse my lines
with 0 intention of really saying them
at 8 PM
I’m going to tell you a lot
and besides, I’m going to tell you

That I don’t (understand myself)
that I keep waiting for the start of the week
the roundness of hours
that I keep waiting to have things clearer
waiting for a letter that I now have

But I hadn’t realized
that I have your certainty
right here in front of me
and that’s why I no longer understand anything

I don’t understand how

Sometimes
you wake me up
suddenly
you say 2 words to me
and my body suspends
here alone, waiting for you

Disconcerted
undone
and I only think

That the only thing I want
again and now
is for that roundness of hours to arrive
so I can start again
at 6 PM or 11 AM

To sleep

and

to forget

So tomorrow I can love you again

As always
until the roundness of the start of the next day
as if nothing
as if all of this
started every day

And I lost my memory
every hour
and so I keep loving you
from Monday to Sunday
and after all
at every hour on the dot
and the holidays
and my knocks against the calendar
and the clocks

Knocks

Starting like a rhythm
that’s not round
11 minutes
and I only look for
three, four, five o’clock

Always more

and more

Loving you so much that it hurts
until there’s no more room
and I don’t understand

And again waiting for the beginnings
like my life started
says my birth chart
that my star is The Sun
that the longitude of my predictions
19 Scorpio 24′ 22″
rests waiting for you in that house
As round as 10 o’clock

And without knowing that “Part of Fortune”
is the lifeline of my days
11 Pisces 05′ 32″
And a second house, the one that completes 12 with mine

And that marks the end
to start over
as if I chose again
to love you to the deepest
on a Tuesday at 9 PM

and tell you here

Like this

Or as if I chose to sleep
on a Monday at 8 PM
while you bathe
you perfume yourself

You dress
while you wait
for the roundness of your hours
of all your clocks

The precise hour
in which you go out to your life
with the speed

Of your years

Always

contrary to me