The night Guillermina
not happy with parental authority
and the penthouse in Concha Espina,
wanted the Volvo owned,
thrown in a gutter
I woke up,
two leagues from El Café,
with a suitcase on his shoulder
full of rubble
and a bread roll yesterday.
'We have missed him'
the barman who served me told me
long glass and with lemon,
the same glass of rum
that, on Monday it's going to be a year,
I left at the counter.
After paying two rounds
(three, counting the bathroom)
I recovered,
between the Countess and Julio.
my seat as a member,
my founder's card
of the most round table
of El Café de Nicanor.
The astronaut was Gámez,
Gaston the flute, Mari the tits,
the novillero poet with his wife,
poor Don Agapito
and a camel without teeth
countryman of a brother cousin
from some distant relative
of Ana Belén.
Associate in society
with such partners,
can you imagine
that loves go wrong,
health neither fu nor fa
and business is not going well.
It goes up to our heads
the foam of a sadness
twilight,
the rust of the days,
the utopias with ice,
the blue gibberish
of heaven according to Saint John,
a sock with tomato
and the latest nonsense
from Nicanor,
that when asked
If he had been in love,
since he is a sincere man,
'I, not sir,' he said.
I was always a waiter. '
The astronaut was Gámez,
Gaston the flute, Mari the tits,
the novillero poet with his wife,
poor Don Agapito
and a camel without teeth
nephew of a brother cousin
of an Asturian relative
by Víctor Manuel.
Associate in society
with such partners,
can you imagine
that loves go badly,
health better not to mention
and business does not go well
Only among all we can make this a better place :)