the links pulled us into
a room with no windows,
doubts and beautiful views
I remember some of the
colours, the taste of beauty dripping on lips
a tartan blanket
chanting and laughter, voices
of children perhaps
a glowing cross
the dreamer
chasing logic in his dream
your hand over mine,
two souls - one ocean, no shores
eyes searching the forbidden name
you were there
still holding the phone
when
it rolled from the sky
through darkness,
a ball of light
a thunder
O-n-e:
One shiningdark morning,
I caught you seeking in my armoire.
T-h-i-e-f:
You thief, voleur, I said,
what are you doing here?
I'm looking for a pair of socks,
you said, blushing.
I have to go to the prom,
and I need socks from your closet...
This is not a closet, you fool!
are you blind, or what? ...I said
... Regarde! Smell!
Don't you feel the oak's scent?
The mornings of old times
are dead,
the dream gets on the tram
along with the evening
and it's over.
A sadness on stilts
walks through the town...
I hear it arriving at the corner
grinning to me.
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