Forty days
to get rid
of a habit
People say

Missing you
is that kind of habit
no 40 years
could ever fix

Such a perpetrated habit
many times a day
puts my toothbrush
daily to shame

Forty years?
The kind 'you don't say'
graceful habit!

Standing up before the forked road:
This direction? That way?

In one hand a spoonful of doubts
In the other a penknife of precision

Eventually
she cut out her own way
sipping bitterness

The forked road into a trident boulevard
Good and Evil
hand in hand
side by side
avec elegance

It's not the colour
Not to blame the style
The size just ideal
The balance far from hostile

So, what's the root of this frizzy spirit
no balm can calm down?

where did my clouds go?

the sheep-like
the candy-floss-shaped
the cotton-made
the sugar-tasting
the light-footed-type
the cauliflower-silhouette
the joker-carved

the clouds you extra designed for me
a little before
the astronomic warlike mushrooms
erupted?

a confined hard-core smoker
in an 8-hour-flight
over the Atlantic
misses his nicotine.

the abstinence of you
is the kind of missing
only chronic smokers
on overseas flights
can understand.

everyday i get busy cheating the world.

with coffee, peanuts, clouds and pineapples.

doing so,
i make it believe
i need it
as much as
it needs me.

Is it?
Only a table between us?

The Abramovic ☐ Ulay kind of distance?

No more corners?
No more plates?
No more legs?

Only this weather-resistant table?
Is it?

Sent from my Imail
Sent from my Ipad
Sent from my Iphone:

Iluvya

Sent from
the old sophisticated
technology
of my pounding heart.

losing is not bad
win is not good

lo(o)se yourself
and all that jazz
will be mastered

my love for you,

can not rebel.
can not relax.

it has an eye open.
an eye closed.

you're my beautiful dizzy glowworm.

here... look! it's on!
there... oh no! it's off.

light.
dark.
light.
dark.

in this movement
it resists
both
in light
in shadow.

reuse
reduce
recycle

battered hearts
not to be
discarded

Play
overdoing
overworking
overthinking
overeating
overdrinking
­
Pause
the leftovers
of me
always lying
over here
over there

Eject*
my seat
overseas

Game over.

bluntly, you said:

no. (reject)
no. (refuse)
no. (rebuff)

and my whole body
felt like rehab.

(cheers, mrs. winehouse!)

My soil
Fertile and irrigated
Abundant water
Flowing deep and torrential
Undammed waterfall

Your wand
Poking chubby clouds
Exceptional precipitation level
Fast flowing river
Amazonian mode

Your wand and my soil
Never, I said, never
a drought

the young guy
at the traffic light
begging for money
at midnight

distressed eyes
hand stretched
'I do no harm'
he apologized

I know,
I replied
handing in
some change,
I cried

safe home
tough night
he does not know  
he did me much harm

the young guy
at the traffic light
afflicted eyes
at midnight

rain?
yes, sunshine.

And then there is this huge orange half-moon
And then there is this huge pale full-longing
to have you the moon and me
the perfect sandwich ever.

this astor
ravenous bird.
preying,
tangling,
lovers' hearts
dramatically,
passionately:

dis-ASTOR-ously.

Fill in the ___.
Exercise of the daily emptiness,
according to the rules of the Imperative mode.

RoDin

part of me
stands
as a stiff bust
in the center of the square
(no one cares anymore. it's been there for a long time)

part of me
dances
as a shameless plastic bag
gone with the wind
(it is disturbing. its plasticity is too mobile and *****)

Instead of this,
symmetry.
Instead of that,
disarray.
Instead of those,
The verse
and its
reverse.

Freezing heights.

Sparse...
Thin air...

Gliding
you landed
as a tickling feather
over my
wet runway.

(jiggling)

Whole engine
seen flapping
its wings
cutting clouds
in pieces,
in joy!

oh, boy...

it felt like a circus
coming to the middle of nowhere:
my heart spit fire,
walked a tightrope,
performed a back somersault,
laughed with the sad clown,
ate cotton candy and popcorn,
did the cancan dance
and thumped home
percussively joyful!

(final notice: circuses move. the show must go on)

sweetheart
stalker
*******
with my virtuoso hand
on the mouse
i caressed
i slapped
i deleted
     ---
(you)

Love is not about the film
but the popcorn

Love is not about the book
but the story

Love is not about the ballet
but stepping on each other's toes

Love is not about a poem
but trying to write it

you should be here
where here is?
that's a place
where here
changes place
everytime my feet
touches the ground.
right now,
just here.

the culture of life.

what the hell is that?
anyone?!
for heaven's sake!

Don't you...
Not my drawers
Not my drawers
Please, don't...
Not this little trunk
Not this little trunk
Don't you...
Not this message in the bottle
Not this message in the bottle
Please, don't...
Don't you...

Will you?