Fusty walls and shadows
Left mice in the lurch
They said „no!“ to Kafka
On that day when a man in pajamas walked
In front of his house
And secretly eated
Fresh autumn grapes.

Boy with a fishhook and pieces of bread
Was hunting frogs near the coast
While Kafka went from door to door
People were offering him a glass of maple juice
Or just watched him in silence.

Shadows were whispering Judge's vanity name
And frogs were moving in the mud
Kafka’s leather bag
Went carried by a river
In searching for peace.

In May we are in the nature.
Improvised desk and two chairs
At the edge of the forest.
Somebody carved them
Long time ago.
It's peacefull.
A few woodcabins in the distance.
Today is your birthday.
Dark beer and snacks.
Good music in our cell phones.
You are allowing me to kiss your naked back
And touch you with my lips all over your body.
You are taking my palms
And placing them on your *******.

We don't go to the end, for now.
You are scared a bit
Scared of yourself, of everything.
Before bed, you text me.
Is all of this too much for a start
You are wondering.

Sunday morning in 2016.
You are turning 36.
You hear the sound of the digital blood pressure control device.
Mother, from the next room.
Picking up your strenght, standing up, taking the garbage bags out.
Then you are visiting your father, he's dying in the hospital.
You see that thing and the urin bag filled with urin and blood in it.
Infection, they say. It happens.
You are feeding him.
He is asking questions to you.
«What happened to me?»
«Did those years past so fast»?

«Life. That happened to you. They past quickly.»
You talk with him, leaving, saying goodbye.
Then you do the laundry, take a bath, buy some groceries.
In the evening, your autotherapy is writing
Or watching movies from your childhood.

Maybe you shall go out with your friend to visit a bar.
His father died a couple months ago.
Both of you are talking about movies too.
You are saying:

«You see, most of our childhood heroes came back
Reason was mostly money
But in averige or bad movies, not like before.
Superman became father in 2006. version
Batman became father in a comicbook and in a cartoon.
Indiana Jones became father
Even Han Solo had a son.
But what happened with us and the other people?
Maybe we were not mature enough, not ready, we did not met a right person
There was allways a question of money and compromises
Now it's a question of existence.
And we are still idealists.
Geeks a bit, too.
Perhaps this country does not deserve mine, or your child?»

He agreed
And ordered the third beer.
I did not.
I knew that tomorrow is Monday and I got work to do
And that the game went in the other direction
Long time ago.

She would hank up on my left side
Listening to my breathing
Like You, she loved to grabble
To take care of my health, You're cared about it too
Unlike You, she’s got an apprehension of old science fiction movies
And she often stared at me while I was dozing or watching a film.
Jokingly, I would draw her attention:
- Look! Advertising for "Elvita cakes"!
We were laughing.

I understood  that stare.
Because of You.
While we were walking in the winter, you wanted  to be on my right side
And You  would  let me slip my hand into the pocket of your coat.
I'd watched you tread, with rosy cheeks
Hair pulled into a bun
I would stare.


You would ask - what ?!
Nothing, I would answer.
(your smile, you fool)

In the first months we photographed ourselves
With a cheap film camera
And photos were in color
On photos, You turn out magically.


I brought along the album with these photos of you
While I train traveled in dawn, for the semester verification.
I stared, while the coupe was empty.
In the city I bumped into a former, older, more experienced colleague
We both worked in a bookstore and his father teached literature.
I told him about the new poems, the new job after old bookstore and that I'm in a relationship.
I showed him your photo, the most beautiful one.
He froze.
Then he said with a smile:
You are going to be so ****** up when this relationship ends ...so ****** up.
And he, as always, was right.
I was *******.

I didn’t tell you about the album and the train
I let you speak about musicians
You were not pleased because I didn’t understood the song of Leonard Cohen completely
And I wasn’t pleased not knowing for the comicbook which will essentially explain the two of us.

You become cold, distant.
You left  in February, after the literary evening
You were a bit surprised that I gave You a book, gift with a dedication
Although I was (un) consciously conscious of what awaits for me soon.

I didn’t  complicate.
I got up, kissed You on the forehead, and I went towards the station and to take a bottle of beer.
Where are you going, You asked. Pulled me by the sleeve. Tightened me.
We struggled for a few seconds. Stopped.
You wanted to see me off, to see how the train departs slowly, leaving
How train wagon becomes a point in the distance  that disappears in the fog.
Of course, it was your way.

Now we both have a cult episode of Dylan Dog
Comicbook called " The Long Goodbye "
There is also a scene at the train station
And I finally realized Leonard
After the first empty bottle.

You are whispering to me that you love me like:
- sinking into sleep
- mornings
- hot chocolate on a minus ten degrees
- the first touch
- the immersion of bare feet in warm summer sand
-  the dance of fireflies in June
-  a breather between two *******
-  a sincere smile between two denuded people

I write you a note on a slip of paper, as if I was a kid.
That I love you
Like a quilt on a minus fifteen degrees.
Like a inspiration.
Like a inception of the will.
Like a"Jaffa" biscuits and restful sleep.
Like a flowering cherry tree and glowing nut from a wild chestnut tree.
Like a sudden wonder.
You're asking me whether you are my sudden wonder.
Little, ragged wonder.
Yes, you are, I answer.
You love being my little ragged wonder.

You are asking:
For my nape and chin.
Top of my head  and lips.
Embrace of a careful lumberjack.
You want chin-caress.
For five minutes.
Intensively!

First, I have to love you
Childishly, astonishingly and all the way
There's no cheating and no need for that
Then I cuddle you for a long, long time, tightly
‘Till it clinck
Then I shake You like a chocolate milk-shake
A little up and down, a little left-right
Nailed You to the wall with my body
Sniff You, sniff your hair
My lips on your ears, forehead, face
Lips
Neck
We are all a bit like animals
Re-embrace You again, clinck You, shake You,
Kiss and hold You
I don’t let go
Until it boil

First, we quickly unpacked stuff
and exchanged gifts.
Books, notebooks, finer pens, sundries.
Then we took food
and fed each other by fingers.
I always trick You to eat a bit more.
" It’s a fraud " you say.
Your sandwich is "Mediterranean".
From the quilts we make a tent
And stare at each other.
Embraced.

In the evening we are drinking beer and seek some nose drops.
We would like to see a good sci-fi, or a horror movie
but the program is mostly *******.

"You see, they live in the center of Beverly Hills,
Downtow, in the circle of main City trams
and for half an hour You don’t  realize what is happening.
The industry push them from a young age. "
We turn the TV off.

½ tucked
¾ tucked.
Utterly tucked.
Cocooned.

Hey.
  
   - Hey.

- Do You want me to tell you a story?

- The story?

- The story of two people who met and the first intimacy they shared was her need for someone to be there, until she falls asleep…

- A story with a magical Byzantine ring and the flat tire?

- Yes ... And they didn't even know each other when he put her to sleep for the first time.

- When they met he wouldn’t leave the room until he brought her to ****** and until he drank all the alcohol out of the room?

- Nor did she ... In the morning. They skipped the the breakfast.

- Yes, I'm familiar with this story…

- These two people are all in details. To them the important things are; this rejoices him; I'm starting to get to know her; I think he feels me. Details, such are wooden windows and ocher curtains. And this room is important to them, which is dead, dead all the time, except for that one day in the month, when they bring to life every inch of it.

- And a bathroom is heated while quilt is stealing socks?

- Everyone wants a bigger, more luxurious rooms, price is the same. Only this two people want a tiny room number five. With their mirror and unnecessary pillows. This two people, they are not logical to anyone. They don’t want to be. They don’t want anyone to understand, justify or approves or not. They have each other and the room number five.
Written down or not, it's a good story...

- I think we'll title it "Room number five."

- Even if it remains only our story, unwritten, I find it beautiful. Because it's real.

And this kind of stories are the most miraculous one.

You say that you are contentment
while You warm yourself up
tucked next to my heart
and that I sleep largely peaceful,
rarely snore, and that I do not toss and turn endlessly.
But tonight , tonight for the first time, I talked in my sleep
I was mumbling, leaning against your back

You said, that it was rather beautiful
The true, real me, the unconscious me
the core of me that you love
the magic essence of (my) being.

In the morning You make coffee
and hum in the bathroom.
Our afternoons and our morning
the string that conjoin them
the light in the mist of life.

We are at the concert.
We sit. We drink.
Fight broke out. Close by.
Kids.
The skinheads, metalheads, punks.

Local madman approach us.
He speaks to me:
"I saw the devil, ****!
I saw hiiiim !!! "

"O really? I saw him also, yesterday,
when I watched
TV news. "

We give him a beer.
He's leaving.

**** it, we are all lacking so little love
a couple steps toward each other
just a few steps
but it's not happening
and eventually the devil comes

He does nothing special
He's only filling
The void.

Girl
I know
with your cosimic eyes
you communicate with trees
in crystal peaceful manner.

They want you
to teach them
how to master
feline telepathy
Yes, I feel much salty sounds
muffled moaning
at the dawn of bitterness.

Girl
Thee, who is riding on the sparkling rails
on the railway of madness
chaos, water lilies and fear
in a ****** taste of chocolate.

Girl
Flesh and monsoons
are around you
cut yourself out from that
repulsive storie
when you ignite your
sixth sense.

Girl
Windswept carnal
With unfettered spirit
you don't know where you are now
and I don't know where you'll be tomorrow
but please , convey me whisper of the sea
for me to keep it
in stillness of a
dream.

Awakening at 06:30.
Make the bed in a hurry, wash Your face.
Get ready.
You are at work at 07:30.
It's not a great job, but you don't have another.
Try not to be late.
Insert the card, sign yourself in book of arrivals.
Say “hallo” to colleagues.
When You arrive, drink your coffee.
Struggle like others, you're not the only slave.
Pay attention for  a lunch break. Eat something.
Manage out for a couple of aspirins.
**** it up. They own You till  15:30.
Have lunch. Take a bath.
Play up your favorite video game.
Empty up, kick *** of some bad guys.
Reply to a text message from your girlfriend.
Make some plans for a weekend.
Not every weekend is going to be free.
Do not neglect art.
Work on the story.
Write down a few sentences.
Lie down a bit.
Close your eyes. Open them.
Read.
A friend have borrowed You a book.
Take some bite to eat.
At 21:05 play some movie.
Betty Blue, or Barton Fink.
At 23:40 You are already soundly asleep.
You made it…?
Dream.

And I'll wait for you.
You will park your car on that same, our  place.
You will be late. I will always understand.
And I will never be angry.
You know that.
And I will kiss you until the Purple candles burns out
And while the phone battery withstand.
You will talk and I will keep mine palm on your forehead.
I'll tell you stories when You dive in me.
You'll ask me what I'm thinking.
Attracting of the souls and suffering.
You drape yourself with blanket and light up a cigarette.
You were wrathful by my uncertainty.
It's chilly.
We open a can of beer.
It is difficult to cope with fear.
Don't be scared, everyone is afraid.
You ask me what I want, Ameli.
I want to lie down and be silent
Until you turn to me and whisper "love me"
Until the pillow is lost on the floor.
At dawn I open the window.
You give me a toothpaste and take me to the sandwiches.
You'll ask me if all of this was important.
And we both know
That it was.

She sends her scarf which she wore for a couple of days.
It has her scent.
She sends hers  favorite earrings, You’ll return them when You see each other.
Carefully'll put them back on her ears.
She will send you a book, a tea, favorite comic or a medicine.
Even if she sends money, don’t always make a fuss.
Don’t be difficult.
Burn her a DVD with her favorite movies.
Tuck her in. Cover her feet.
Be thoughtful.
Be strong, also.
Embrace her in the Batmanish way.
She will get a haircut  the way You want it.
And a new haircut will be godlike.
Whisper that to her ear.
And kiss her ear, face, lips, everything.
Get drunk together.
Talk.
Skip breakfast at the Hostel.
She’s  Your breakfast when You kiss her back .
And you're hers  when she says she wants to once again.
She’ll tremble with pleasure, at the end.
Give her your valuable knick-knackery,  your boy's treasures.
Give her your nape and your heart.
Watch her sleep.
Save her poems.
Put them in Your pocket when You go alone for a walk.
Make her smile.
Listen to the beats of her heart.
Make her being happy.
Let her inhale You.
And don’t let her dissolve.
Keep her essence thick.
Inside.