Life-size cardboard figures from the 1920's,      men in straw boaters, women in long swishing skirts,      stand outside As Docas on the grass,           and the mauve flowers from the orchid trees           fall silently, swiftly among them.      They follow us into the street, ask for our hats, our           handkerchiefs.           They stroll around the Teatro da Paz                in yellow shoes      and look for everyone who’s been lost.      Nights they wander through ruined houses,           and I travel with them,                our eyes of blue neon resting nowhere.