Sometimes, I enjoy a stripper dance.
I enjoy the clearness in the twilight of a club
where everything is what it is: no less and no more.
We can taste the sweetness of professional performance,
engineered to make you forget or desire something that doesn't exist,
but, at the same time, it is so clear that you forget
the darkness of other clubs when the desire is uncertain.
Sometimes, when you feel another skin under your fingers,
another body squishing yours, and a mouth talking so close, too close,
you feel something new and clear because there are no second thoughts.
After everything is over, there are no regrets or tomorrows,
there is no forgiveness or illusions.
Sometimes, I can feel part of myself resting for a while
inside the certain emptiness enclosed in a professional-pearl shell
because my ghost is somewhere else too.
