last night out
Touching rhythms and rhymes, locating shreds of memory on my
skin, preventing all desired and undesired encounters, activating all the
senses of a wrecked nervous system
The noisy crowd stands between me and me and me and you and
between us and every touch.
By the end of the night noises will slowly start to fade
away, fumes will replace them.
You will take a very clear shape, maybe not a very clear
one, but it will be quit. Dead quit. Grave quit- and there will be no images or
shadows or useless odder.
There will be you
I won’t be me
We won’t be together
You will be in someone else’s bed.
