A noisy moped is roaring down the street.
On the table, my steaming cup of coffee
is waiting to be drunk. I take a sip
and in the silence I am thinking of everything I could be.
The future is invisible; the present is full of
mind opening skies,
hugging lovers hiding in the shadows,
and screaming typewriters in the night.
At the church, this evening, I made up with God.
I had lost Him yesterday.
A treacherous wound:
I tripped on the parvis and I cheated on Him.