my two halves rarely meet each other
the long evenings when my mother told stories to both of them are gone
my two halves lost a soul somewhere between them
and they walk with one lit candle in their hands, thinking that maybe this could replace it
both have a monster's crooked smile and each - half a dream
two vices, two ways, two men
and only one slow, continuous death


yesterday I spent almost half an hour looking at a flag which was endlessly struggling on the roof of a building
trying to figure out the direction of the wind
sometimes it looked like it was blowing from the left, sometimes from the right
- the flag itself had no clue
the frost was biting my cheeks; in the end
I left without being able to choose.