Have you ever thought
you are God?
I have, always,
if the intertwined thread
that the life
of men omits
is the infinite writing.
You know that, because like
the others you skipped it.
The thread that holds
and saves your
entrance as puppets
is me.
It's me, compelled
to wait, the impassable,
the unravelled
that even if
read has always been
overlooked.
You poet thief.
I have always known
that in this
overlooked page
is your life.

Antonio?
You with fierce look on your face…
on the book counter.
You inattentive
and repressed boy… Antonio…

Where are you
now?

Translated by Tania Calcinaro