B O R D E R L I N E

Let me drown in the absence of your own absence, oh life, my life, look into your eyes, and rediscover there, in them. The cruelty of squared paper.

From the boundary line you squinted, not recognizing me, your pupils whitened by the distance setting apart the gold of your iris, the blueness of your colourless eyes, from the caravan of those nomads who, since time immemorial, have been crossing this southern desert, or would you rather seal my eyelids forever with lucent sellotape to hinder me from recognizing the hot balls of your fingers, frantic nomads exploring your sex hidden in the dunes?