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Night is changing into day. City lights are switching off. Long, |
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empty streets. I walk and my infinitude is cutting me in half. |
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I lay down at the foot of the sky-scraper. I wish someone were here. |
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The tenants are coming out still dreamy, smelling like coffee. |
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When they se me lying, my legs spread and my eyes full of lon- |
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ing, they halt with wide open eyes. The coldness of concrete |
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freezes my bones. Maybe all is in vain. An elderly man approa- |
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ches, a bag in his hand, and diffidently asks: would you come |
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to my place. I say no, let?s do it here, so i can watch the rows |
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of bells and the lists tenants while you penetrate me. He lea- |
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ves; the coldness and humidity of the early morning give me |
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shudders. I pick up my rags. Nobody else comes out. My desire |
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for utter pain is crazy. Is it? |
