crawled over every inch
of this thin strip
through the unlit windows
where people live
faces reveal
the boredom and terror
of the same civil
engineering errors
maybe on the bottom
maybe on the top
under the stars
all along the Orla
wrap this night
around our thighs
until our desires
bleed through our minds
turn this dance
into a commute from
Ladeira da Barra
to Pituba
where red lights
are faint suggestions
and purple skies
receive ovations
after the third sip
of the shaman’s ayahuasca
find yourself stretched
all along the Orla
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