Wednesday, January 29, 2014


at least when we die
we won't need to hear
the horrible violinist at the bridge
at least in our lifetime

he thinks he's brilliant
he's out there every day
during the hours that are light enough
not to be spooky

crossing the bridge at night it's different
you can't really see the town
except what's lit by lights

the horrible violinist may be asleep by now
in one of the buildings you can't see
fiddling with somebody's dreams

(written in Salzburg, May 2013)

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