Wednesday, 12 February 2020

laughter

black streams pouring from his shoes
a nesting lamppost lingers over the empty street
he stops at the fresco building by the blind alley

irritated streams between his lungs and abdomen
curls on the spindly sofa inside
among the corroded legs of the couches
a swarm
of lingering smoke and laughter
“…sperm is the only thing which can take you over the grave, you know”
he stops

frost descending on tar rooftops
at lung black streets
a lighthouse flutters oxygen over yonder

©  Anders Enochsson 2012