Summer School
I can’t boast my achievements
to friends free in the world
when I attend summer lessons
while they work, swim and fall in love.
The leaves of a book
are not a girl’s flesh,
and the pages’ adventures
do not take me abroad.
Credits earned
are not money in the bank.
A brick tomb baking in the sun
and the heavy perfume of chlorophyll
remind me of the acquired
joy of my brotherhood.