Pale day. Glass eyes
And rancid half-moons.
<< Good morning. Is this Mr. Giuseppe speaking? >>
I nod half-heartedly.
Introibo ad altare dei.
<< You should collect a document. >>
<< I’m in Berlin. >>
Silence. Tramestio
in the background.
<< You should come to Rome. >>
<< I told you I’m in Berlin. >>
<< When are you coming back? >>
<< Never. >>
Algorithms chase each other
Between loops and conditions.
<< Can’t you send anyone? >>
<< No. I know nobody. >>
Silence again.
This time, it is moist,
It exudes stomach-churning miasmas.
<< You should come here. >>
<< Can you send them out? >>
God parted the Red Sea
to send saturated slaves
Among the golds of the desert.
<< In Egypt, there was plenty to eat… >>
they whisper in rags
And pustules of elders.
<< You should withdraw the document. >>
<< I’m in Berlin. >>
<< What is it all about? >>
<< Nothing important. Formalities. >>
Short breaths.
Weasel’s eyes.
Half-moons again.
So many half-moons!
Ad Deum qui laetificat juventutem meam.
<< I hate Berlin. >>
Intertwining neurons:
kicking worms
To be impaled.
<< Why doesn’t he come back? >>
Red bricks, dull,
muffled branches,
half-moons.
How many darn half-moons!
<< I’m in Berlin. >>
Deposited for legal protection with Patamu: certificate
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