VrijMiBo door je tepel
Passing the American graveyard, for my birthday
the crosses stuttering, white on tropical green,
the years’ quick focus of faces I do not remember...
The palm trees stalking like deliberate giants
for my birthday, and all the hot adolescent memories
seen through a screen of water...
For my birthday thrust into the adult and actual:
expected to perform the action, not to ponder
the reality beyond the fact,
the man standing upright in the dream.
Prettig weekend. En be nice enzo.
Reaguursels
Dit wil je ook lezen
StamCafé. Waar is eigenlijk het meisje dat mandarijnen verkoopt
Mandarijnen, sinaasappels, maar daar gaat het niet per se om
