Saturday, September 27, 2003

Lost in Translation

a haiku in one hour and forty two minutes

the feeling looking out of a taxi, jet lagged, without bearings

a reminder of a memory that isn't yours

wondering if life will get any easier. No. Yes.

the neon jitter of a grimy city, seen through a window, muffled

trying to sleep in a rich hotel room, with crisp soft sheets

a mood savoured, wistfully

middle age, his exhaustion stronger than his libido

recognizing something that you haven't seen

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