Alejandro finds his pleasure in parades,
Liking most the tumult and the noise,
Excited by the close-packed crowds he craves,
Jostled to and fro by burly joys.
A quiet moment is too much to take --
Not too empty, but too full of being.
Depressed by so much existential weight,
Restless in the presence of his state,
Out he runs, in search of what he's fleeing.