an excerpt from the muse lives in bielefeld

i did not think to look at myself through her eyes
for me, the moment lasted forever
the minutes were days
the emotions were tornadoes
raging across the plain that was once my heart
i sit in a quiet room
listening to the hum of a compressor
looking toward the night
when i can sit
between retired men
and listen to meaningless words
which will free my thoughts
conversation
and a little bit of vodka
will help me sleep tonight
will quiet the echoes
in my empty apartment
in my empty soul
it will be good to hear them complain about taxes
about foreigners like myself
about the turns of history
it will be good
to drown my consciousness
and my conscience
in a shining pool
that is not her eyes

Herford, 10/18/2004