vineri, 22 mai 2015

essay about my thumb

let's stay the same
both drifters of the world
no luggage
no worries
no nothing
left behind us
our love
like a big tired dragon waiting for a train a subway
or anything else it could be
our love still burning quietly on a platform
among  white chalk statues
as for us
improperly  free
hitchhiking to anywhere
jumbling places names dates
wasting the seeds of the world in a public square
among dozens of pigeons
nibbling from our palm
unstringing the string of our lives
a little bit
simply out of haste
of hunger
or by mistake

let's stay the same
from this world to I don't know whose one
those worlds we know
that never will they stop
on the contrary
they will rush through us
loud and shrill
in the highest haste

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