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Gregory Spis, Poland


Katowice, Summer '99, Saturday, 19.26 p.m.

...sitting at the table in the open air under the great umbrella in
front of the frog fountain, in the Bodega restaurant, Stawowa street,
I was drinking a beer and ...

two
junkies
stuck
in the dirt of the wall
raising in their hands
the white flames of their ice-creams
like triumphant torches
in the fragile cornets of time
of wafer
their bodies of wafer
soaking in the cool glow
the fire is leaking fast
scorching their palms
burning out their thoughts
in the wafer
like a short-feature tattoos
until it stops burning
together with them
leaving the sticky trace
on the low wall
that will be licked greedily
by the rain

 

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