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Buenos Aires City Blues

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Buenos Aires
Is lonely open spaces
Thrown ajar
To the eyelid,
To the shaken eyebrow
Of a poet,
A winded summer
Of metallic roses
Without purpose,

You feel like it
And take the train,
Bring a notebook,
Blue pen,
At Plaza San Martín,
Dawning gravel kicked,

Kids flipping coins
At the sunless beat
Of a car engine,

Chance is mysterious,
But people even more.

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