PUNK POETRY: travels porto portugal, october 2022 by Mario Pujol

afraid

of being caught

lookin’ at myself in the mirror

in a hallway

of a seedy motel in Porto,

where it smells

like the guest next door

has been chain-smoking

since the sun set.

 

I’m thrilled to see you again

even though I haven’t had

the chance to count the days left yet

& I still have some mending to do

on the old backpack Sage just gifted me.

 

take a look

at the rose that grows on the rocks,

I might be a bit drunk by now.

I thought I don’t drink anymore…


--Mario Pujol

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