I hoped to celebrate a merry little Christmas together
sweet mystery night
in her arms
on that particular day, religion fell from the sky with snow
lit my imagination
life up North in general
feels like watching heavy clouds from a prison bus
didn’t think twice about it though
ran up the stairs
left a handwritten note on the door
quoted Shakespeare’s sonnet
saying
that so she was to me
as food to life
with its number 75 below
there is nothing wrong with
creating consequences that define your chances
with forming reality with energy to open eyes to reasons
and justifications
quitting the guessing game with emotions that make your heart race
She came home
found it and was elated
because she took 75
for JS
initials of her ex
but this sorry ass moved to London
I didn’t care
I was in Warsaw with spare time to leave notes
to my English teacher
fascinated by her presence
since sixteen but not puppy blind
awakened and ready for the conquest of every border that confined me
a week later we had sixteen orgasms together
within twelve hours of my first journey through her body
madly attracted to each other for a long time already
We agreed there was no way my train was not coming for her
I also laughed at her first misidentification of our relationship
75 was no JS
the second mistake being
a few months later she left for New York
to never see me again
I lied
I had seventeen orgasms
only two less than I had years
By twenty one I read everything by Shakespeare
and still didn’t understand why she stepped out
of my train
older women can become scared
of the cocoon of ten years motionlessly hanging between lovers
whatever they kiss with their mature lips
sooner than later turns into Spanish tragedy
in which
bullets fly
cocoon breaks
everything of value and purpose is suddenly
taken from Otello
Hamlet
Macbeth
Romeo
and the last American hero
in Chicago now
(guest appearance)
me
