Let us go now into the forest.
Trees will pass by your face,
and I will stop and offer you to them,
but they cannot bend down.
The night watches over its creatures,
except for the pine trees that never change:
the old wounded springs that spring
blessed gum, eternal afternoons.
If they could, the trees would lift you
and carry you from valley to valley,
and you would pass from arm to arm,
a child running
from father to father.

I'm sitting on a disgusting all ***** chair on the cellar of an old chop-house.
The eternal boys from my time who failed at school and as consequence failed at life, play foosball.
The girl which I saw before entering the toilet with a scissor now comes out with a piece of hair in her hand.
Another girl stands in the corner, her back on the wall, beer in her hand, she doesn't stop looking at me.
Can't say If I know her. She approach me, she grabs a chair and sits right besides me. "You have no Idea what you are doing here"
"I can't say you are wrong" I reply. "1998. We wanted to take over the world". Now I knew. I looked at her and I recognized her eyes.
"You were right...". I said. She waited for the rest of my point. "...The Problem of the dreamers is that they never sleep together."
She knew what I was talking about but she choose to skip it. "Are you trying to get me to your bed after all this time?". I looked again back to her, my hand on my pocket.
"No. Take 20 cents and go have fun with the boys". I stand up and left. Her name was "Love". Never saw her again.

little dark girl with
kind eyes
when it comes time to
use the knife
I won't flinch and
i won't blame
you,
as I drive along the shore alone
as the palms wave,
the ugly heavy palms,
as the living does not arrive
as the dead do not leave,
i won't blame you,
instead
i will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.
little dark girl with kind eyes
you have no
knife. the knife is
mine and i won't use it
yet.

The switch is welcomed
with arms open
like a soldier's homecoming.
—
—
It's not love,
but it's
certainly not hate.