Life are little things, I heard in lift somewhere up to heavens, somewhere in a guidance of my aesthetically perfect poet friend
No clouds in the sky, no people or sounds around
Almost as all people have disappeared
My sister tends to be frighted by this vision, I never even thought of it, yet what an astounding feeling it is
Till I spotted cars on the remote road and the dog crossed my path
And his keeper looking like Chris Martin didn't do anything, like he knew...
Felt weird but uplifting
And I walked by the croissant on the pavement and met a boy from TV, who seems to be quite as socialistly weird as me (my glance must have been strange)
And I pondered if he's also only roaming aimlessly
I prayed to meet my Russian-speaking friends walking by the hotel where we met
Well, I didn't but felt almost like back then how the sun was setting
What a view it must be from the biggest building in the town, on the roof like David facing pink, blue, yellow in the vanilla sky
It's nice to be able to choose footpaths to step aside people
As a little kid I used to notice every crack and gap in the sidewalk and tried not to step on them
Today I decided to step on every rift in tar hoping my leg will break down and stumble
I realised how I hate the orange light of street lamps, which always look yellow in the photographs
And how I love pale light illuminating the unique building of our cinema
Shining like a spacecraft in the sky
As it got darker and darker and more people appeared deeper in town I realized I have nothing new left to discover...
YOU ARE READING
Random thoughts pretending to be poems
PuisiPoems written in post-covid era, when my writing style had suddenly changed a lot, significantly affected and inspired by Lana Del Rey's Violet book and her post-NFR albums and by other circumstances still unknown to me.
