on a kind of record, II
II.she saidI’m going to talk to you quite openlyand sheapologised for her vulgarityis there a way onwardJuanaby Gamboathe western cordilleroa patch of vomitmade up of the lightsof Bogotácupped in the handsof a thousand digitsfigures of bonewalk the westernhorizonstill recognisablemoving without acknowledgementyou are watchingrelations of yoursI askyou trap me