That Garcia character from Zorro woke me up this morning,
testing the strength of my side window with his knuckles.
He more or less copied my identity papers on the back of a piece of paper,
and told me without any enthousiasm that I couldn’t camp there but should go on a camping place,
during all which excitement I remained lying in my bed.
Nothing new here, except that,
you could organize some serious skateboarding on the lower of his two chins.

Yesterday my hormones responded violently while standing next to a Latina
who was gently squeezing a mango to see if it was ripe yet.
Hunger is the best sauce, as we say in Flemish.
The sauce on what?