URBAN CONFESSION THAT RESEMBLES A POEM
We met at midnight between Saturday and Sunday
and of course
I don’t know exactly what day it was.
I offered you a drink
you accepted my mouth.
We were dead-drunk
whether we were talking or singing I don’t know
our eyes met,
yours yellow
mine black.
In the colorful fireflies of the discotheque “Crazy Boy”
we really became turtles,
we were dancing with a song I can’t recall.
I know,
my blue jeans
were pumped up as a bloated fish under the water
that lifts its head above the sea
just like your beautiful inflated and excessively
exposed tits
that made me more horny
and all night we kissed with all the strength we had…
The drinks kept coming, we paid them, we left them at a bar
I don’t know whether we drank them or just paid them…
We got out with swollen bodies, and sweaty head,
we took a cab (and the day we got the cab was in fact
Sunday, even though it may have been the last cab
for the night, at least I think so).
The city covered us in your little apartment
until we licked each other thoroughly
until I don’t know when.
…and around the noon
we woke up with hangover and freed.
You told me: “I am not like that!”
I told myself
I wish you were like us.
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