A kiss between the sheets lost:
What commotion of love, what a romp!
whose erratic flapping bird
slash my fallen poplar branches.
no color, no haste, or snap,
lewd meandering feather light,
silent, invisible, loitering
the dark areas of meaning.
do not know who released him, but I suspect
along the routes that remains on the bed,
the same as someone to run one day.
Improvised this kiss map
mischievous spirit again today ...
my desire or is involved in mischief?
PICARO BESOS PARA TODOS
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