They loved him, neither more nor less,
and each morning he removed
the thorns of sleep.
He swore and cursed
and he entangled himself in the fencing
of mellow routine.
He lived like you or me.
Friday night
he went to pick up his sweetheart.
He smoked calmly,
he planned the week ahead
and she tore his cigarette off
and kissed him.
And one day the fear virus bit him.
He realized that women
never have a master.
And feared she would leave,
that the spring would ran dry
for no reason.
Fear won and he did not go to their last date,
he did not pick up the phone that
howled on the side table.
And fear of defeat
crippled him like a cramp,
for no reason.
Hard, intense and ephimeral...
He faced each day
the tides of work.
And a morning cowardice
paralyzed him at the door
and he did not enter the office.
He awoke again
and he started reading the paper
like so many others -on the last page.
He saw and felt the night
of the planet and its disaster,
he was fearful and decided
not to go out on the street.
And there you have him locked up at home,
trembling like a child,
sealing the windows,
not to see or hear,
sense, feel life exploding outside.
Fearing feeling afraid
he went to bed,
like a caterpillar he hid
and wrapped in blankets
he fell asleep,
he made sleep into smoke
and he forgot the world
fearing waking up.
He's still asleep.
Winters passed
and he still hides,
waiting for your embrace
to administer the vaccine
and to cure the fear virus
and its madness.
