Chilangas scenes on hot days
1. a sweeper pushing his car with two drums rigorous and fluorescent orange dresses will caracters in the streets dancing on a street perpendicular to reform, turned on its side and moving, put the other side and jumping forward. repeat step. is a newly paved street to the beat of a song that some protesters reproduced elsewhere in its powerful speakers. suddenly turns, sees me see it. stops dancing, I do as I do not see. I wish I had not flipped, danced at a fast pace.
2. way toward the underground revolution. crossed the street and prostitutes throng the sidewalk and the entrance to the station. are past 7pm the new schedule. a brunette slut, and forty, in miniskirt, is about a young man not handsome, not quirky, not fucking that recharges in a planter. She says something. He shakes his head. she walks away and mutters something. a group of whores, further, yells, asshole, I did lose a Chesco.
3. revolution metro area. south side. an old man wears a threadbare and dirty. stops before the glass of a sideboard. looking at it as a mirror. takes a rake. shakes him against the wall beside the glass. passes the rake face of a little beard and sagging skin. shakes rake again. rake goes the other cheek. I walk hoping not to blow a wind to carry their beards close to me. he will continue shaving.
4. I take a taxi. say one place. The driver nods. are 8am on a Saturday. a red light stop our march. not long in going green. 20 meters ahead we see a brown cat crossed. stupid cat, says the taxi driver. I think the same. restrains several cars noisily. the third rail can not. you hear a thud, I remain, as a crack or a meow, not a whimper. the car is. the driver again: stupid cat, he ran his seventh life. and I think the same, but I feel a shudder, how many lives I have plenty?
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