I took the underground
one chilly night of December.
Two black girls sitting opposite
me spoke with a Cuban accent.
A dreamer was looking at me
while I was writing this but I
did not care.

Two boys next to me were
talking about computers. Can
Vidalet Station, blue line, Barcelona
Metro. I was on my way
to Hell. There lechery and desire
await me, as they have for 2
years. But I am too strong (or
stupid) for them and sluggishness
takes me there.

An AIDS poster in Pubilla
Cases, a woman with a patent-
leather handbag, a strange-looking
girl, spectacled and gloved,
glances at me with a curious stare.
I'm on my way to Hell when I
met Heaven precisely on that
Saturday. But was not bliss a
State where pain and cheerfulness
confounded themselves till you did
not know which one was better to
hold? Imagine someone with a
sorrowful stare writing this on a
Metro seat and you will see me
on my way to Hell.

Tony, December '95.

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