Waiting for my friend
I don’t say I love you
just that you’re my
most perfect illusion.
I walk a lot throught the old town.
I decided to start a new
search for a meaning.
A new search for a new meaning.
I found out that cities can not be conquered.
The old deceivement falls into the water.
Cities are just shiny, bright dotts
carved in the maps of my imagination.
Come on, let the phones ring.
I’ll give you the kindness
I was given before,
just open the door of your flat
and flood the bed in which I’m sleeping.
Show me your chest and arms
without thinking of loneliness.
Loneliness stopped being a problem.
She’s a lady and wants me to make her laugh,
like I made you laugh.
Yes, I’ll be your clown.
Just like before.
The past is wonderful and the past is dreadful.
I place it between the sweetest thighs.
Memories fade. Left is nothing.
We wake up on floors,
and on the edges of everything.
Leaning against walls
while healing we raise our glasses,
toasting to mad choices
and missed opportunities.
Don’t even try to renounce this one,
no matter how much a stranger’s song fits you
and disappears without looking back
knowing that just then
the details, engraved in us, will remain.
After death they still live,
we can do nothing to them.
like incomplete wraiths,
abandoned, with no rights to themselves,
unsaid in their own despair.
And the wind is mad and the wind is wild.
And touches were all we wanted.