For R. F.


I wanted to send you flowers
a sort of winterflowers
with the brown tones of a ripe rose
and the smell of nights of walking
on dangerous grounds
enclosed by neglected hedgerows
behind which you would suspect daffodils
of the months behind us
daffodils, a scent I probably mistake for too "lovely" 

that kind of flowers I wanted to send you
not by mail or unwrapped
no, they would have been brought to you
by an Indian boy with a classic Greek profile
who studies German at the university
and who wrote himself a choreography
on the music of Mozart

that kind of flowers
by that kind of boy

but there is not much blooming
in my wintergarden
and I heard you were allergic
to mushrooms