when I moved

to my old house

the landlord

warned me:

“there are bones

buried in the backyard”

but, back then,

I was so young,

I didn’t listen,

I didn’t even care.

I used to think

that death could not see me from afar.

but then

between obscure bars,

old whiskeys and smoked cigars,

Life surprised me.

everything started to get darker

I needed answers to all the questions

on my mind.

I felt so blind.

ending every night asking the bartender

“when did life stop being kind”

I went back to my roots

put on some old boots

got my shovel

and started digging,

getting deeper and deeper inside my mind

and in an instinct, I just knew,

those bones were mine.

today,

a couple of decades later,

you wouldn’t guess the irony,

on the backyard of my new house

stands

a cemetery.