The jail

The steel moon sucks my fears
I waited for the river of time to dry
I am resurrected today
And the morning sizzles with orange blush

A car came to get me
An envelope, my file,
The bank has shaded blinds
They go out without haste, like glass sentinels :

My compatriots arrogate to themselves the brightness of the stars
Their cheeks are pure, their looks proud
And I am released like cigarette smoke
I pollute the alleys, I uproot my evenings

These frosts have the taste of freedom
She tells me that she is an optician,
And in my confiscated skull,
My soul turns, like a dancer

My checkbook, bread in a bag
I crossed a field of wheat
The soggy moon on the ears of corn
Made a cradle for my eyes

I walked in my heavy coat
A bus was leaving at half past four.
And the morning dawned slanting
When California greeted us

I ate a piece of bread,
My beauty was waiting for me at the station;
I am a little cold, my hands are shaking
And if love was waiting?

The sun sparkled,
Like a rain of tempered steel
And gushed on the tar
In microscopic oil spots

I drank too much coffee
The hotel blinked like a flower
In the sheets a black hair
Laying on the dragging pillow

Then I heard a bang
And my eyes jostled each other
At the gate of my vision
In the blur of my cell,

It’s morning in my prison

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