The Stain On My Forehead
only highly immunized girls make love
anyway not those like me always stamped
with spit on their forehead
to be protected from evil eyes among other children
after years I rubbed the memory of that stain
with tender lemon leaves
to wipe off that mellow scent
and the bored kiss of a man
right in the middle of my forehead
as if he understood
that I stopped liking to wear red clothes
I had both hands in my pockets
without knowing what to do
because of cold and shame
anyway it will pass
after the wind blows over it doesn’t hurt
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