We were in close chambers for a year
had stepped across each others thresholds.
We brought lifelong obscura, our sour
drops of stories that together stirred
made lakes in common
you and the distrust of the utterance of love
and rightly so when tooling for manipulation
and unusually early.
and i doubting the contracts as cover
if trust has housed love with doors
and the windows tall as metres.
In our onyx lakes a deep laughter
rises from the fabric of semiprecious waters…
it was all best heard outside of the workplace
and in the quarantine of just a phone call
last thing i remember you saying was
you had a full bad hair day. i was plumbing about
ensuing government reforms and what tickets
it could afford me and my final return to
the four walls.
I pray that gold is met with gold. your art, the bookreadings,
the nootropics. Outside of the end of this poem are classical
nylon strings marching along the tangly tree of a guitar, sing
Ariel Riveros Pavez 
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