Panelstory by Lucia Lipková

02/06/2010 22:16


my memory is a collection of explicit polaroids

from this concrete jungle

where the truth is kept secret

where heart is a lonely hunter

and where the frost touched my ankles

when I was looking for a reason

to wake up


I had a dream about having a dream

we met in a cold sleepless night

somewhere halfway between the gutter and the stars

millions of windows around us blinking simultaneously


I was amazed and amused

and you

without saying a word

took out a silver pencil from your pocket

and drew me a sheep

winked at me

and disappeared

in the freshly fallen snow