Apparently while I was gone,
my death from smallpox was announced
in the newspaper, so when I reappear,
Bernarda and all my family and friends
are so relieved that they forgive
the rumors of my scandalous
behavior.
By now, Nicaragua has a new president
who grants me a dull secretarial job
that allows plenty of free time
for writing poems and stories.
What is there to say about feeling suspended
between childhood and maturity?
Each day is a road of dreams
leading toward my future—adult liberty.