the 50 lovers that live inside my body
go out nightly in search of another 50 lovers

just like 50 windows
each one concealed behind 50 pairs of eyes

50 different outcomes
each representing owners of 50 different colours

50 love-letters carried by 50 pigeons
permutated in the plazas of 50 modern city buildings

the wind disappears from my 50 dreams
leaving 50 nights, while my 50 passions
are asking:

why can there only be 50?

1997