Streets like threads woven into the city
Knot at the harbor
Am I moving uphill or down?
Echo of my footsteps
Centimes in my pocket tap rhythm
Lost in the working class maze
Homes expand and collapse
Expelling screaming ghosts
With every yawn and step upon uneven stones
Piss in the same alleys as Napoleon
The pavement slippery with allegory
History hunches my shoulders
With its random weight
The light slithers in my eyes
As I lay back on the street
In the swirling green absinthe smoke
Will no one call the shore patrol?
The kiosk is toppled
Words tumble and twist and escape
on the push of winter winds
The men and police stand and stare
Like puzzled insects with sharp claws
To be behead enemies and lovers
Qui nettoiera ce désordre ?
The summit of an amazing canvas
Dancing headlights shop windows and beer signs
These blend into a divine ray
What time is it?
Watch ticks loudly and wakes the workers
Gut burns like a star collapsing
The man with two heads pushes his bicycle
His words are mush mouthed distant
My lips moves to speak
But I am without language
We are the only two stars out tonight
And yet we are silent to another
