i draw little shapes on your back and you mimic them on mine, shall we do it like that? you turn me around robot-like: so you want to understand me you just see what you want to see there is no way i can help you out you do not know what it is all about; i give myself a call but i am not home when will i go home? i winter to you -they say, i hear, that life is the only place to resort to; i am here and there in scraps of others and of myself and i sow everything together that i am able to get. we fly like two birds who are illuminated from down under by a glow; the afternoonsun, a nearly-red and the spiders at my feet keep on scaring me and i keep on looking whether they are really there or are merely apparitions and you kiss my feet and everything is solved. come under my wings little bird i swear there is nothing up my sleeve and then we love; our treacherousness; as raw as meat can become, our flight from everything is vertically upwards.