The Importance of Balance

The first time I meet you after the love has gone
is at a restaurant of your choice.

Noisy, buzzing and fills up
the prolonged vacuum between us.

For once you look happy, rising
up to give me a buddy slap

but the camaraderie ends
when we settle in our seats.

Your replies are weighed,
like a tightrope walker careful

on a slack wire and knows
there are no safety nets below,

only the post-mortem anger below of
similar dinners to remind you the

importance of balance. Did you also predict
this politeness maturing to boredom too quickly?

We take the drinks outside, naïve
that dynamics would do some good.

The night is warm and heavy with our history
dampening the air like humidity.

We are not talking, only attempting to.
I have been wondering for an hour

if something would have changed.
This dinner is my answer.

It represents us, cold,
even before this table was laid

and I am relieved to know the wait is now over.

Dreams

I was running, pounding Reinprechtsdorfer Straße
to your apartment, past the coffeehouse
whose name I can't recall (it begins with the letter "M"),
past the shop displaying pink and white negligee.

The black-blue skies circling my ankles
beginning to feel like weights.
I wasn't too sure if it were night or still day
'tis lack of day
light.

It became sharper in a matter of seconds
why I was running, I was running after you,
because I knew and I had seen you.

You turned left to your apartment,
and with a crisp turn of the key
you were gone.

I don't run after buses so I don't run after people
but I found myself running after you
and now here I am consciously calling
your name to the meaningless wood of a door.

The intercom was a thing I never learned
to conquer like the many others of driving
of Photoshop
of xlsx.

A man was coming out of the apartment,
holding a big bag of laundry.
Balancing his clothes and the heavy door,
he held it open.

Vielen dank, relief swam over me.
Bitte, he replied as he walked away.

I don't speak German.
Even upon T's return from Berlin,
he asked me what the equivalent
for welcome was and I had looked at him
 like he was crazy.

Here I am dreaming in German.
You emerged shortly unfazed unfeeling
in an exhausted green coloured ringer shirt
with a vintage print.

Where are you going? 
You waited twenty seconds to reply
fumbling for an excuse
like searching for keys in your pocket.

Going to meet Andrew, you said.

Where were you before this?
You looked at me and couldn't say anything.
We both knew you didn't have to at 650am in the morning.

Belle and Sebastian- Judy and the dream of horses

The best looking boys are taken
The best looking girls are staying inside
So Judy, where does that leave you?
Walking the street from morning to night
With a star upon your shoulder lighting up the path that you walk
With a parrot on your shoulder, saying everything when you talk
If you're ever feeling blue
Then write another song about your dream of horses
Write a song about your dream of horses
 Call it judy and the dream of horses