The sky are dribbling.
A greek street is appearing
in the coffee shop window, rises
memory, scrabbles the days,
draws near and keep far from
but mainly represses the storm
is the memory is the beloved? .
or the illusion of intimacy?!
I draw near and you keep the distance
and again fate is mocking, gibbering
in it's latent language, blessing
or cursing
Here is the greek street in the window again
or maybe it is only creation of memory and pain