There’s only one thing I know of
that can hurt you
I love girls with lipstick
and matching fingernail polish
and black hair with green eyes and the New Yorker,
on a fake café table
with slice of foreboding,
pecan pie and a cup of espresso
and endless stream of airships
from Coalbrookdale
This longing fills my much needed void,
the room I never knew existed
Pesen kuluneen yön iholtani,
samalla hetkellä emme tiedä
missä olemme,
mihin olemme menossa,
meillä ei ole muuta
kuin tämä ihmisen epävarmuus
Tell me about your high heels
traveling through time.
Tell me how to stay in touch,
how to become a shadow, or a light spot.
I doubt our book selves
would’ve been compatible,
the boredom of your topless nights
on my bed in your red panties
reading Sartre
The bottomless nights of my girls of ill repute,
the improbable dreams
Our lives lack formative events,
our bodies were so thin
we got bruised making love
Näistä olennoista tosia ovat vain ääriviivat,
suorat katseet jotka kertovat etten voi
toistaa mennyttä
Tuon varastin Bob Dylanilta,
Leonard Cohenilta varastin
naismaun, Lou Reediltä
Nicon puhelinnumeron
Ehkä hänen ja kahden portain
maalatun seinän välissä
voin vihdoin hengittää
Onkohan
Lou Reedillä
koskaan hikka?
This is not the life passing you by,
it’s the city, breathing,
a light in the park burning
bright through my window
Burning bright, she’s wearing those stockings again
The metaphysical art of her
legs inhaling our asymmetric love
and she’s not paid to understand,
and her arms to hold my weight,
and love is always asymmetric
Burning bright, I heard her footsteps exhale
That was the night my handwriting changed