What I like most in this world
is how life calls me
by my name. As if she, life, were searching for me
or didn’t know where to find me.

Look how life laughs at the world.
Look how the world doesn’t trust life.
Look how hard for them to get along,
cold life with difficult world.

But what I like most is how
in spite of everything she, life, pronounces my name.
As if asking me without asking.
As if searching me out as a poet and as a man.

That’s how it is, the name of my existence.
Tender for some, famished for others.
Everyone pronounces it differently.
But she’s the only one who responds.

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