2023-07-06

 ON THE RAZOR'S EDGE


 


My life is made of newspaper clippings


In the big apple I became a man


Of paper


And on the razor's edge I walked


And by fluke I saved


New York, New York


Over the skyscrapers


A room in the UN


A window looking at the East River


The barges passed


The corpses of the suicide bombers floated


dirty water and smoke


brooklyn chimneys


I smoked black tobacco


They stole my black glasses that I bought in London


The first night I arrived


when i went up for a moment


To take a coffe


I could not read


So much paper, mountains of reports


bureaucrats


I made friends with Russian journalists


They were all KGB


Watch out they said


gossip


They looked like handsome colonels of the Preovazhensky Regiment


From tsarist time


My friend Hervy the Jew would pass me the chronicles


And he went to Miami to die in the elephant graveyard


Avuncular fat man did not eat jalufo


I understood then that those of the wandering people


They don't have a tail


maybe i was one of them


But the press conferences bored me


And the insipid committees


Matchbox


The hermetic glass doors did not open the windows


smart architecture stifling environment


Hallways full of bacteria


I was short of breath


They told me that that glazed and blue house


It was the breakwater of all wars


Spain gave birth to me, England made me and undid me


New York transformed me and made me fat


In my chronicles I defended the Spanish interests


With the displeasure of Piniés


Hermida sometimes came elegant and petulant


Carrascal ties and smiles


Cyril in his harem


There I felt the pulse of the world


That was the story of my days


in the UN

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