On the parapet of a flat roofed house
a one legged man,
dressed in a singlet and knee-length shorts,
balanced and at the same time
looking into a round shaving mirror
smiling as discovering a great truth
something that he had been thinking of for a long time.
He then lost his equilibrium
and fell to earth with a thud.
Vultures came, many and when dust settled
only the mirror was left.
Picked it up, looked into it
and saw a contour less eternity
that tried to pull me into its sphere.
Closed my eyes and
when I opened them again
the mirror lay crushed on the ground.
Looked for witnesses,
but the summer street was siesta empty,
only a cur, resting in the shade of a porch,
lifted its head looked at me mildly curious,
infinity was not its concern.