At the Café
A good song,
a crazy small miracle
comes from the gramophone
while I stay silent.
And to everyone’s amazement
I push back my chair
and stay sitting in the air.
In front of me sits a girl
with ugly teeth
and flighty eyes.
She stays silent.
- Both of us know
what’s going in inside the other,
and strong as lions our souls kiss.
She rises into the air,
and I do too,
we find each other
there above the tables.
And to roars and applause
at the miracle of the song
we intertwine
and roundabout out of the café.
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