Of course one fears somebody might enter in through one's eyes. But you may burn. To your temperature I am mercury, palm-lines, lip, breath. I go through you because you come through me and as where we are raiders we surrender to the charms of restitution.

You and I at the threshold of a place that will lock everything inside a tree. Here where minutes are the street that we can wait in all afternoon for silence, where your body weighs exactly the measure of my desire.

I am an animal. I need the daily transfusion of an enormous quantity of warmth.

Will you touch me?

Vasco Gato