A Noble Mafia Man

I wander

in the gutter of life

Carrying my memory like an old canvas bag

Dripping angels

I collected in the past..

Leaving my lips in a metal cup

Like a dead log

For an old man

And I am a sparrow made of straw

Dreaming of a fish,

But the fat lorry

Which carries tears


Down my cheek another time

Without brakes.

The cockroach I gave him two days

To die

He lied down hours ago on his back

Lifting his head a little bit

Towards the sky.

Maybe he wanted to whisper something to the angels

I will carry him in the air


By my giant size next to his

After that

I hang him on the back of that lorry

With a kiss

To his lover

And I come back

Like a noble mafia man

Just finished off his enemies

And dreaming now

of the fish.

(from “An Angel Suspended on a Clothesline”)

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