BETWEEN THE BRIDGES

New York City Diary

The only sound to be heard
was that of trains passing over the bridge.
The murmur of the Atlantic.
They were high and migthy waves.
Cleaning the walls of the houses in darkness,
to be ready fort the day ahead.

The setting is familiar and we´re all heading towards it.
I`m guessing this ist he beginning.
During those days you send me flowers everyday,
transforming our apartment into a plant shop without a concept.

I spend houres in bed, expecting the noise to bring me my dreams.
A paradise of hells clashing.

Airplains are circling above our heads
But the pink butterfly in your hair cannot fly.
Our flower shop has dissolved
And I`m crossing over to the other side.
That last gance backwards hurts.
The subway dives into the underground
Like a wounded animal and I think
I diden´t say goodbye.
you and me  2006