***
The children ask for the slavery
of the happiness and listen only
to the voice of the reticence suspected
in the glands, the throb makes them leap
and they abandon their houses
and they roam in search of false paradises
the terrible oracle of the Truth shouts
at them in their bones, “You don’t know
how to love!” And so they not be whitened
like Michael Jackson who didn’t want
to have a colour the skin on his face
was removed and he was walking
in the world like a big, cosseted,
sweetened boil. Nonetheless the fugitives
are running thoughtlessly and yet so good
as the sharks always do. If they stop rushing
about they sink to the bottom.
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