"In the Cocktail of Stars" (New poem, 2021/11/15)

in space
streetcar speeds fantastic
I rarely get a chance to breathe
in between stations
I skip to the newsflash
pour me a shot of daily chaos
enjoy the outcome
of holy damp day

I think there's no need to hurry
I've got everything ready
Italian noise tapes
Italian flowers
Italian gallery
to welcome my Italian lady

but plans get verified by other plans
and battles I fought mean nothing
when the ice settles down
on the corpse
swinging low to some 60s freakbeat
on a death parquet

I know she won't arrive
I know this dreamworld is fake
and plastic vase for plastic oranges
engulfs the orange chair
recent designer
job

some comforting muzak in the distance
pizza man arrives
ice cream truck arrives
my day is complete

the morning shakes off the scent of sex
I'm no longer interested in body
I watch it glitter in rot
retro is what it is
never useful for travels
at the speed of
meta Sun-Raelistic
light

I think there's no use of writing today
no use of waking up, even
though I'm quiet in the evening
and the tidal waves of Atlantis stop at my forehead
I feel just a pawn
in the cocktail of stars