FULL MOON ON TOP OF A CHAMPAGNE PALM'S TIP

i am confronted with cabinets
all of them, in an array, locked and so private,
but i have a key to at least two of them
and now i am opening one,

this one contains the bread and butter,
i go inside it and do the usual expectation
i sit, i read, i make some notes and then
look at the window trying to check the time
in the horizon
this one makes me feel that everything must
be finished
so that by then it is time to go
and i turn myself off and then
in a minute on again
like a radio, or a
switch at the
garage.

i close it and i am free,

this other one, i too have a key, and i am opening it
now, has no bread and butter, but there are so many
interesting things inside it, it has miniature suns
and moons, it has tiny clouds floating over green hills
and there are creeks running and winding on the bellies of
mountains, it has
molecular butterflies, atomic bees and neutron ants,
and ionic houses,

there is a home here, homey, home baked cake,
self-made bread, personalized Spanish sardine,
special breakfasts, a view of the sea
white sail boats with names farther,
seagulls with tags, lots of seagulls,
and some swordfishes with buttons,
and corals with thumb marks underneath,
and sea horses with labels,

nice world in here, but this is not where i live.

i live in the third cabinet, i have a key, but i, for now
is not opening it.

Perhaps, never.