THE FRIEND Poem by Héctor Rojas Herazo

Suddenly he looked at me,
more solitary than anyone.
He looked at me with his eyes and his bones
and his bare feet in his shoes.
I could not resist it (we cannot stand
anything that looks into the depths).
Behind him was paradise
with all its demons and its stews
and papa God making soap bubbles.
And on this side there was the console table,
the furniture, the witnesses of the living room.
And the friend sitting on a small chair.
Looking at me, sitting, breathing.