you will certainly not believe it first
you will overlook it
how silly to speak about it, you think
unless perhaps in stifled conversations
when night forces its breath
through keyholes and chimneys
and then you discover it one fine Friday evening
in a quaint little coffee shop
or your favourite book store
and along with it
arrives the time of the useless customs
of sleeplessness and dreams
and acts of tenderness
a sudden season of smiles
slowly
you recede past this world
into the succour of imaginations
it leads you there
it opens your chest and thrashes inside you
it makes you a hostage
and you set upon that road again
the end of which
you already know
it will not let you live
it.
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