Yesterday, it was a caravan.
Today, it is by car.
A husband drives,
his wife observes the road unfold
with the weeping silence of clouds.
They are chasing Armando,
a myth living like a parasite
off the stomach of the atmosphere.
There they go,
always arriving—
always departing.

Armando, they say,
is dressed in robes of sugar;
a dream that can be held
like an apple.

They are chasing him—
They are chasing Armando!
Armando: the exhaust of their engine,
their breakfast of the previous day.
They will never find him,
no, he is only a rumor
propagated by the wheels of the Cadillac
and the highway.

And the husband and his wife will never know
because the Earth is round,
because the Earth is round
and there is always
another side.

Yaul Perez-Stable Husni