I hold it in my hands, I made it, I proceed to the autopsy
Of this faithful animal that follows her like a little dog
Strongbox, intimate, partial and unique witness
That she accommodates in the hollow of her kidneys
But which she calls, as if this was all natural, her "handbag"
A fleas' powderbox in a case of black velvet
Out of which the white powder's grains glide on the mirror
A paper back, peppermint and subway plan
A sample of perfume, lip balm, 3 or 4 pens,
Some cigarettes, yes but she has decided to quit smoking
Thus half packages of ten (cigarettes), of which she buys two at a time
The ringtone suffocated, the telephone that she takes a long time finding
A missed call, this annoys her, messed up again
Of course, the wallet, burried like a pirates' treasure
Heavy as a breeze-block, it contains the pictures
Her parents, bell-bottoms. A Christmas with a cousin
In the background, the Formica table, the one which is now in our kitchen
Instead of the choice, I smile stupidly
Like the "team member of the month". Yes, but for how long?
I've earned the right of being shown to the (girl-)friends
Like those who - before me - were in the show window
The guilty organizer turns into a time machine
Our first date, Friday 2nd June at 8 p.m.
My name more and more present, until the day when we were moving in together
And underligned in red, the date of my birthday
I skip to the future, I get off on next wednesday,
You have an appointment at lunch time with a certain Sebastian
On "it's over"- Avenue, at the Lovers' Cafe
The portrait in the wallet soon is no longer going to be mine.