Hollywood Ending

I am coming and you are gorgeous

a little drunk

suffocating in your small apartment in quarantine, curled up in sweats eating pasta - you always wanted to eat pasta

and drink wine

we drank coffee

You dream, you daydream in your bathtub of all the ways I touched you but I’m pretty sure those morning times of you

sinking in my big arms were better than any dream of yours.

I could look into everybody and see what was going on inside them -

I look at you and I never know - are you sad

because I’m going back to LA

are you sad

because you think I don’t love you

are you sad

because I haven’t fucked you enough.

Oh, we are a mess, human beings, flesh of monsters and evils

lovers and angels, fighting old and novel pandemics, we are loud and deluded, diving into fearless battles but we are not alive.

Ocean liners boiling all over the Pacific

the leaves will be brown in all of the streets in London until I’m back

until I look at you and see right through.

But honey, I promise the fall is near

and we’ll soon converse again about America and the Eternity.

I go back to LA

You touch yourself, you wait

you cry while eating

exhausted and beautiful,

in my memories you always say: “Come back to bed.”

Oh, the things we invent when we want to be rescued. It’s so much to bear, we’re all full - even me - erupting all over the American sky.

How many days have we actually got left in this world?

“Come to LA”,

I say and we swim in the ocean.