Better at night

Better at night
when your eyes are packed with black birds,
while you crush me with fresh garlic in your mortar.

The problem is that you are unable to digest garlic.
It spins in your stomach the whole night,
as some words I told you without thinking,
before dinner

A new day breaks out in your mind
and the black birds vanish from your eyes.
They are replaced by high density clouds
threatening with an electrical storm.

If garlic doesn't fit your stomach,
I wonder why you asked for explanations
you didn't want to listen to
I wear my boots, my coat and
I don't forget my umbrella

The slam leaves the storm behind
and summer bursts before my eyes