I walk in my mother's clothes on the street,
feel the cool sweat wider my arms soak her blouse
timidly: shy, damp flowers of my sweat on her blouse.
I let the white dust with its years of spit and sweet
I walk in my mother's clothes on the street,
feel the cool sweat wider my arms soak her blouse
timidly: shy, damp flowers of my sweat on her blouse.
I let the white dust with its years of spit and sweet