My Fathers Office
sat with with
indentured servants
of paper stacks, crawling
towards the ceiling,
mildew man
in a metal bin can

old German phrases
lingered in the air,  
and my shallow
net unable to catch
a meaning,

of your ich bins
and your ein kleines,
your Nachtmusik of
revved engines,
cigar suitcases and
old turn of the *****,
in replace of an
I love you.

Don't matter to me,
I can spell out any
words with candles afew,
blow them out too
and eat the cake soon.

Some of them
do not do, you do not
do not to,


Where were you
when the night
turned blue?

but of intentions

you carry secrets you
dont know the words to,

a revved engine, cigar
suitcase and boots