Where do I come from...

Where do I come from,
the sky is always coming,
the road chases you,
and the town hall clock,
is embraced permanently,
at the time of the siesta;
the children play barefoot,
in the muddy streets,
the men walk on tiptoe,
so as not to wake up in the sun,
and women make revolutions,
naked for the main square.
Where do I come from,
each in their own way,
they speak their own language,
everyone on the rooftops,
they pray to a different god,
and they tithe with their lamentations.
Where do I come from,
the judges walk in black,
by the unions,
asking without shame, alms,
and the assassins along with their weapons,
they carry a first aid kit,
if any of his dead,
They were not indicated white.
Where I go,
I do not know, maybe not so far,
only a few steps up,
that takes me to the heart of some,
of those who walk without fear,
in the midst of the packs in heat,
of those who love with madness,
without losing the vertical,
of those who look you in the eyes,
and they say: today will be a great day.