When I met some old men
on trampled gravel

tossing metal balls

I didn’t even begin to suspect
that I was one of those balls

rolling with difficulty
within delimited bounds

attempting to get as close
as possible to a smaller one

but I try not to roll
when released from the hand

and to resist a motion
which I never chose

fighting and demolishing

as a metal ball

uninhabited buildings
insensate neighborhoods

I fly right through
the boney walls of the body
with all its smoky windows

crumbling into
small seeds of glass

naively believing
that in my place

gardens will propagate
with floating trees

and with fountains
and colorful fish

silently praying that in my stead
there will not sprout

skyscrapers made of glass