0. Ever-moving scenery of French countryside
I looked down from the window.
The patchworks of fields.
Now they rise before me.
An undulating ocean of hills.
Where do I want to go?
Where do I want to go?
You toss it out the window, and say,
“Let it float."
———–
1. Crossing the footbridge at the station
Drag my feet up the stairs.
Think of words after I swear.
It always seems that you don’t care.
Of all the things that I bear.
Suitcase in hand, we jump down the stairs.
Pipe in your mouth puffs every breath you take.
Your preoccupation causes your surly face.
But through the owlish spectacles you see your work highly praised.
———–
2. Next to the bench in front of Abri du Pèlerin(The pilgrim’s shelter)
Clocks of dandelions swaying in the sweet air.
Your thoughts flowed as a river as you were standing here.
They reached, and touched, the horizons.
“To simmer, to ferment." To freedom.
I left my suitcase and now I watch you there.
Pointing your finger at the Jura mountains.
———–
3. Looking up at the bottom of the southwestern tower inside Notre-Dame duHaut
Hush. Hear the sound of light.
Showering down on you.
And touch the ripples of the concrete walls.
Feel the war, hot and cold.
And suddenly I am the individual of myself.
Cross my heart.
This will forever be true.
———–
4. On the slope outside, chapel’s east facade as background
Realisation comes after the songs.
Words roll down the hill and reality follows.
My wings, my white cloth flutters about under the blue sky.
The chapel on my left. The ash tree on my right.
I hold on between the walls, so that my life won’t crumble.
You spread out your hands and mutter something about architecture or revolution.
And there are things that are certainly greater.
———–
5. Running downhill on Rue de la Chapelle
Here comes the highest speed.
That’s when I loose my grip.
And chase my hesitation rolling away from me.
Aware that I might also lose my money and identity.
But fuck it. Fake it till you make it.
One of the hidden architectural vocabulary.
———–
6. Restaurant Ephèse on Rue le Corbusier
One of the biggest smiles on my face.
Something you probably never cared to pretend.
They have a huge misunderstanding with both of us.
Of what we express.
But now I get the water.
And you’ve got a name.
We walk out the door together.
Leave the clerk shrugging, nonchalant.
———–
7. Waiting for the train back to Belfort
I cannot stop watching him.
His broad heaving shoulders and back.
Breathe in a fallow field of Queen Anne’s lace.
His slender body tough as the flower stem.
Alluring yet invasive.
His profile stands under the sign of “Attention. Warning."
The biceps under the backpack strap buldging.
You snicker behind my back, watching my heart beating fast.
I turn back and glare at your ghostly body.
And remind you of your countless clandestine meetings.
———–
River on Baltic Sea 
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