the boys chase the girls with the curls in hair
Milan at times hurt me
dust rising in the streets overflow
buildings and neon lights
in the swarm of bodies moving
of thoughts swarming
of the times we live without direction
Milan at times hurt me
fall in home evenings
behind closed doors in the plot behind
hardened our hearts
items are dried
there silence
words have become standard items
steps without direction
Milan hurt me at times but we are still in
breath and then still have time
time to enter the hearts of our jams
in the fall and raised in
spiny bodies trembling but
to derail from this fate
fact of silence heavy iron
called
alone in the midst of the crowd
loose bolts
and launch into flight
to return to live human.