The art of stealing

Steal heaven,

stars maybe.

Never steal a heart,

or a tiny cloud,

for they'll

hunt your soul

forever.

Steal me when I'm standing still,

steal a violet,

or a bike.

Beware of your hands,

for they steal

nothing worthy;

a wearable cricket

is to find

in one's pocket.

Try a grain,

a bit of sand,

all kinds of air blowing.

Maybe they'll listen

to your diving into a tricky foam

somewhere in Venus...

(inspirado num poema de Jim Jarmusch em moriana2)