Working morning

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It’s four o’clock,

coffee is served,
I drink it in just one sip
and then I run to catch the bus,

if I arrive late today I will be fired,
the warnings are already so many
that they do not fit into my personal files anymore,

– one more fault

– I was told –

-one more slide

¡and you will be lift up
to the unemployed’s hell!

It’s four o’clock in the morning

and my wife; wrapped
in its cocoon silk

– that baby-doll that had cost me an eye of my face –

sleeps …
Would she dream with me?
What matters whose she is dreaming with!
While I still am the gardener
of her plant of hair …

I’d better go
before the cash rolling human cargo

leaves me at foot.


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