They laid a blanket in the sun, on the sidewalk
and they dangle their little legs in the air.
Some already got the sexuality phial
others got the phial against sexuality.

I am the present, sweeties, can I stay here with you
for 3 seconds, as long as my life lasts?
Can I stay here with you and slowly bleed together
like the name of a rock band: Broken arms up the mountain.

When the potatoes starts burning, the curved cane of Ioana’s grandmother
standing against the heater falls noisily in the kitchen
and it carbonizes in the fall: something must be sacrificed
when something else is saved. Her concern touches me.

We have nothing else in common besides our yet unsynchronized deaths
and our girl, sweet as the sugar of the past, worked by slaves
but she must have seen me through the bathroom window,
she was one raindrop among others the one that slipped.

 

She knows how it’s like to feel alone in the world
and to eat burnt food. Jung tells so beautifully in Memoirs
about monkeys, that they waited for sunrise on the branches
quietly, with their eyes towards the sky, and it’s still wonderful
like they were living a presentiment or a nostalgia of the conscience.

 

If you would receive it one day, sweeties, and for a while would be amazing
but afterwards the conscience would multiply
you would desperately want back only one or none
with only one blade of grass on it, like the sea
because only the sea and the summer are holy, and the rain, with its drops
too small to show up in the world for real like beings with bones.

I fucked girls in the summer but I secretly wished to fuck the summer.
I also drowned one summer, at 17, when they were playing Dallas on TVR
and my older brother called me home from above the pond
until he consumed the speech and the tongue dried him of all its possibilities.

What I feel sorry for is that he is sometimes allowed to be a child.
He even has a magical carpet, but he forgot its magical word