steps
behind my door.
Tell me, when is a coming.
And when to go.
I'm so in love with faces.
I can see that in my steps:
one is on the go,
one is dragging himself. (that's the, that comes from the cleaning company)
And Stacato takes a ninety-year-old step.
Applied over the whole area and with a gummy appearance:
the shoe, the one in midlife.
Two steps at a time in my early twenties:
only with the tip. (later he rumbles over me
with sex.)
Which is the foot of that, I knew?
And then ran away from me?
I flew over the landing
in his eye, the small
keyhole.
Embrace his face, as gäbs
no tomorrow in the shadows.
Doors of rickety houses fall loudly into the lock.
New doors held back by springs;
quietly. Wadden-like,
isolate my ears.
Read in steps, anonymous.
Face ache / I'm so in love with faces.
Wandunbekannte.
Understand me on passers-by.
(13.9.2020)