My balcony door opens carefully.
Rumble or thunder: A huge mass of traffic in the distance,
turns away.
Just the air soaked in smoky diesels.
The night hangs opaque.
I hope: they didn't mess that day,
with head down.
Because I feel: they withdraw, on and on.
With every arrival they have to break.
Of necessity.
Okay. I'm a little pathetic today:
But the days, that melt in their hands;
formally; i just want to keep one of them.
And work with it.
But it's not over yet.
I suspect: behind my glass behind the double panes,
something is moving. It goes on tirelessly.
In processors, Rollers, screwed in the smallest
Elements: Signs of departure …
But right now I am not thinking of those who have been captured.
But to the others: thoughts! That float freely,
despair and procrastinate, hop around in circles,
unobserved, we make ourselves, maybe
one can act unexpectedly with it.
The appearance, that I lay on the dead-like rigidity,
is my own. It comes from the absence of facial expressions.
In times of great frost.
You can stand him, felt, in a warming face.
(21.1.2021)