Translations Need Not Be Checked

Talk to me
as a destination
old and slightly dirty
but still popular.

Talk to me
where languages may not be
“legitimate, democratic and sovereign” processes
in the areas they take over.

Talk to me
as a translation,
as a definition of faded color.

Talk to me
as that which cannot be clear and bright.

Talk to me
as the things that go round,
as the things that flutter down,
as the things you see in your head.

Talk to me
as flat tires to the pot-holed roads they curse,
as fallen leaves on their first introduction to the dirt,
as the dream to the waking which pierces through.

But talk to me.

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