John, cu zaharul in mana stanga, se uita la cafeaua mea. Rece si foarte dulce imi place sa o beau. Dimineata. Apoi inca una putin dupa ora trei. Dar cea de azi dimineata n-a avut nici un gust. Sau n-a avut gust de cafea, cel putin. Nici de zahar.Si era si foarte fierbinte. Ce se intamplase cu John in dimineata aia? De ce imi facuse o cafea atat de proasta? Probabil fusese obosit.Nu am facut nimic cu acea cafea.Doar am gustat-o. O mai aveam si la putin dupa ora 3 cand cu mana stanga, John imi intindea zaharul. "Tu nu bei?" l-am intrebat. dar John nu zise nimic.

joi, 15 aprilie 2010

 


When i grow up, i want to be a forester and run thru the moss on high heels...that's what i'll do
throwing out a boomerang, waiting for it to come back to me
when i grow up, i want to live near the sea, crab claws and bottles of rum...that's what i'll have
staring at the seashell waiting for it to embrace me...that could be solely what i do
last night i drew a funny man, with dog eyes and a hanging tongue, it goes way back
i never liked that sad look from someone who wants to be loved by you
i'm very good with plants, when my friends are away, they let me keep the soil moist
on the seventh day i rest for a minute or two, then back on my feet and calling for you
you got cucumbers on your eyes? too much time spent on nothing, waiting for a moment to arise
the face in the ceiling at odds to look, i'm waiting for him to catch me.

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