Custom Duty








He was my man of the Americas
Wide opened, the Hudson Bay between my thighs

He was my man of the Americas
Making use of my time, I had a lot in advance

He dragged by the hair my taste for risk
I was crying day and night but the ocean is a tear

I waited the good will of likelihood
Stuck in the middle of his destiny

He was the one whose tongue was vibrating in the throat of the milk and honey promised land
I was embarrassed to be the old Europe's discernement single-handedly

He was my sole foreigner
The air shaving endless roads

The brightness of the borders entrenched in our multiple pregnancies and the unexpected
He was

Yet already sensitive
A  light feeling of confinement during my passage through custom clearance