streets across,
across from rooms
lights that signal
sleepless tombs.

dusting vengeance
with the silence.
dreaming tainted
without violence.

taxis and the exclamation
a twisting knife,
a dedication.

exit from a long-dead eden,
lazy strides that never needed
friend or foe, and foe or friend
it's she who never reached the end.

indecisions; there she met,
a man with thirteen cigarettes.

frowning in his old black hat,
he made some tea for two.
and careless, careless as an aging cat
he lied the colour blue

nighttime rushes and flushes,
flowers wilting in the dark,
mixing oxygen with honey
"just like thunder" he remarked

draped across
this travesty, she said to him
he said to me;
"i cannot wait for you to die,
i'll meet you in a suicide."