There’s a painting of you and me long lost,
From a border town and its mirrored companion,
Where a storm is coming from the south,
While other approaches from the north,
A Fujiwhara effect over a dried upriver and cracked concrete.
Who broke the mirror that lined the border?
Where storms could see their reflections and turn back.
We hold each other’s hands before la línea,
Both towns are alike, you and me, night and day, dos en uno,
We represent a painting that is fractured and withered,
A moment captured in color paste where our gazes cross,
The instant where our faces blend and the hues of colors fade.
A painting long lost,
Two storms coming,
A missing mirror and a dry river,
And two flags getting ripped simultaneously by a never stopping wind.
Have you seen them?
If you pay attention, you can almost see them stretch, trying to hold hands once more