FUCKING WHISTLER

Maybe now is the time
to sir ourselves down
on the keyboard


Thousands of Post-Scripts:
—Not just sit ourselves down, but...
—A gust of ugliness that makes you thirsty. Beer at one in
  the morning in a German place on Avenida Pelayo.
—Waves from the province of Maule, “ugliness”in its sovereignty. And repeat: that prodigious Chilean who so frequently spoke when he shouldn't have, drooling his desperate ignorance of love.
—I guess when I say this I'm thinking of Mexico.