In Black And White

There goes Harrison Ford,
Guardian of the 80s in his retinas.
Photos and cassettes in black and white,
But only those who truly lived them
Saw the colour of the yellow beaches,
Of the omnipresent radios,
Of the prototype-people,
Of the flat cokes.

You had to leave the house
To see the world,
Because the machines and the gadgets
Only captured shapes and shadows,
Objective silhouettes without vibration.

Those times have passed,
Closed behind the lockless door that is the past,
And their colours
Survive only in experiences,
Kept in the wallets
Of the inhabitants of the past

And when the last one joins
The room where those years lie,
They will definitely die,
Because they were something intimal,
That existed only in the mind and heart
Of those who tasted it.

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