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(03) 14. 04. 2018

 




On the first day of our dream, I crossed over Tiber





The ambiguous burden you raised,
Ask if the clouds in the sky are too flaky.
Curtain unwrapped, naked seeds,
Staring at the sunlight and shadow on the face,
Grind my teeth.

I poured fresh milk onto molded strawberry
blamed a glass of tasteless Chianti.
But please, have a sit,
And a sip of fresh mint tea.

Under the faded pink autumn glow
Raw rocks displayed,
You waved at me with eyes like deep sea,
and hold the depth secretly.

The disconnection wandered around the city,
ascending the moment of uncertainty.
Devastatedly grasped,
like I cross the stream over the Tiber,
without my shoes, or my feet.



Rewritten Memory from Fall 2017





Mark