what about Mrs. Porter?

Her love is unusual
It betrays her all the time she tries to concentrate
and catchs her unprepared
it's like a frozen ice, and it's there, but when she feels it, it melts
and her love is unusual
different from the books and from the music
it's more earth-like, more visible, athought unseen
It carries her on every morning through the day
and slips her home at night
only sometimes with a smile, some others she is preoccupied
still her love is unusual
it indulges her when she thinks she is loosing it
reminds her of the beginning, when it was laughter, then came the quarrel
and the beginning again.
but she forgets the dark, at least most of the time
though her love is unusual
it's a part of me on the other side of the other room
And because I don't see it as true love, problably it is the most true I've ever grown.

Peristáltico

junto minhas mãos na esperança que esse acto me ajude
parece que rezo, mas é só aparência
foi sem sentido no início e o é agora
Que remédios minha alma busca? Que escapes minha indolência procura?
Tenho o avesso da selvageria, uma mísera mordida de mosca tsé-tsé
como que empalado, e nem isso me agita.