DECEMBER "Dark Year of the Penguin"

With this job as a ghost
Mary, Mary, quite contrary
Am I here, or not here? What the fuck is this?
Each morning the nymphs of oblivion caress me:
"Get used to it, Idiot,
You have nothing to do in front of the mirror,
You are stateless,
without doctrines,
stop writing aphorisms, and thinking of your folks"
I cares the ivory spine of these times,
I kiss the face of casualty and I despised myself,
I lift the daring animal in which I live,
I throw it in the dark street
of similarity,
Dying its hair eleven thousand colors,
I give it Santa Monica and Hollywood in the evenings,
I fill it with cheap vodka and marihuana,
But it's useless, I'm stubborn,
I am a ghost flying to Havana.

                                    Jorge Luis Rodriguez