Down from minus fifty degrees
The man beside stinks of sweat
We go down in warm darkness
I take you from my will, on a serviette
And I see you at the terminal
Like a mirage, a Prada clone
I have hidden needs in my scarf
For just this kind of unthinkable situation
I walked slowly forwards to the table
With my awaiting gaze
Over the mouth, in the middle of the words
you hit as hard as you could
And I saw how you felt about it
From almost bottomless melancholy
came the lovewarm violence
and the wine spilled became a pale Rorschach test
I see someone by the redlights
The same NK umbrella
And somewhere in my wallet
glows a post-it from '97
Where ten ballpoint-blue small numbers
scream dare without words
But the moment glides away
like the shadows of small grey light clouds
I see your back from the taxi
even though I know you have fled
from the cold, silent country
I stamp the wiper-blades' rhythm
And I remember nothing of what happened
but I am in a cold sweat anyway
World Champion at holding back colours
Have pity on me
I am The Loneliest in Sweden
And I pulled you into my fall
And then I just glided away
So sorry, sorry for everything
For my stupid split tongue
I have a photo somewhere
Where we are queens and kings
Now pictures lie all around
where old faces are young
And I have looked as if obsessed
for feelings that are lost
And it has been a long long night
but I am glad that my tears
are controlled and calm