wtorek, 5 stycznia 2016

the way back home

1
it's
two o'clock, the night is fast
asleep; disinterested in yesterday's
affairs, the lamp posts grow
along the city streets
the dishes sleep, half-emptied,
on desolated tables
the party's

over

2
the car is taking us to our
divergent quarters
I recollect myself
inside
the leather-coated
silence

3
out of the window
the moon is stylish but is shy as well
the crescent shape
in the winter's air
makes an allusion
to your silhouette
the barren fields retell my absent-

-mindedness

as someone's sitting
in the driver's place

I weigh your last night's dance

4
back in your house your evening dress
is probably dreaming on the bathroom
floor - spread like a ghost or
curled in an embryo
shape, abandoned

like the last night's
guest



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