Crouched in darkness,
We ate from a pot placed on newspapers spread on the floor.
Rats jumped to snatch food out of our fingers
Then stood in front of their burrows
Readying for another attack.
On cold nights
They hid between our thighs
Until we saw a giant rat in a forest
Dragging behind him a weeping girl,
Her neck tied with a rope.
In the morning, while we listened to the nightingale chirp in the tree,
We carried barrels of our urine
And dumped them in the ditch in front of the police station.
We came back with breakfast prepared for us by a policeman's wife
Whom we'd made love to a thousand times in our dreams.
When evening came
They called us one after the other
And hung us from our shoulders to the ceiling fans
Until the rats began to fall
From the folds of our clothes
And howl from the whipping.
After a few years or maybe centuries
I saw the one I left in the darkness of the pit:
He was a young boy again wearing his pajamas as usual.
He lifted his head and stared at me for a long time
Then went quickly on his way.
I think he has forgotten me in the throng of life.