eye's dream

chips of sunset drip off the palm tree's palms
irrigating the brown grass with flames
I go off the bus to come closer,
cup in my hand the drops and drink them.

The sun already drowned in a haze, but the sea remains golden
aloof duns and brooms
and me floating over some stranger's footsteps
spin on them a story.

Dark, gnarled olive trees over pink sky,
exhausted slumber on the dusty soil amide noisy people
a dale of bacchanalia.

Try,
to be freed of the hypnotizing monologue that circles always in my head
to be able to see more clearly when I open my eyes, but I love
tracking the tracks imagining it belongs to someone I know,
wishing it's reality and we'll meet.