Eulogy

In the soft boundary between evening and night

The tall palm trees spread their dactyl branches

Like bats' wings

And swoop down

On the old man

Who clutches his heart

Beating in time with the sea waves

Against the half-drowned rocks.

He traces his finger against the tepid air,

A eulogy of solitude.

They say that ghosts can hear you Even when no one else can And that consoles me.