some days
we are rested
but not at peace

some days
we kill the mind
others, the soul
(everyday we kill the body)

some days
dead vines
hang on iron railings

some days
the coffees’ reheated
and the weather is almost right

some days
patterns are put to the test
and a little piece of madness
escapes us

some days
wine breeds illusions
of too much passion
and not enough love

some days
the telephone
never rings

some days
broken notebooks
just aren’t enough
to remember
the beautiful verse of wednesday

some days
unrefined phrases
become
undefined phases(of the moon)

some days
yellow magic
is all around me
and 13 is the only number that matters

and some days….
the word is crystalline
a time
when even rusted metal shines