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ich starrte den prachtvollen Himmel an
behold ich, in meinem chiffon, in Gaze und in Filterstreifen
ein Fliegenwort von hier und dort
gestiegen von den Toten
Stadt, die nicht eine Stadt ist
ich hörte den Wind aller Tag
allein
ich war eine Göttin, ere der Marmor mich fand
eine Feder des Stahls
dieses ist der Song von Jugend
nun da ich zu Ihnen abgekühlt bin
er war ein hohes junges oysterman
möglicherweise
wenn Nacht entlang den Straßen der Stadt treibt

 



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