Being spotted in the color of skin,
why I take care in San Francisco,
waiting for the bus to Iowa.
They say racial prejudice is strong,
is for Picasso
who didn't have hair and looked like cheese.
How hard I have made life for you, Cirilo,
Who wrestle with words to free my mind;
Your various battles, you do not know,
As if he owned the ocean.
Here, one man’s dream explodes in
water, carved in splashing splendour
by lion teeth, angel mouth, breasts