Cologne Poem by Aneta Popova

He is a drunk!
He is a drunk!
A southern bagpipe
full of mesmerizing tunes.
He is a dancing drunk
ape on my bony shoulders
squeezing my brain
as fresh morning lemonade
my hair
shed on the rough streets.
I bleed!
I bleed!
I fall in his hands
palms of a drunk
they smell like rum
the deck is swaying
he's whispering
dressed in camouflage
drops
of the autumn rain
his words
they taste like mickey
i see fog
all around the boxes for
the so called creatures
with two legs and two arms
and minds who splash
something modern
something shiny
but not drilling
our Ka is muffled
mute
contemporary
art
with pain in our hearts
hanged on the flat building cheeks.
Commercials!
Commercials!
everywhere
our love is
clinging
our life is
swinging
on the cord of
le parfum
of the new wave coming
crawling our way
but you cannot see
you're a drunk
don't trust me
you trust them
the hangman players
you think you dance
your own way
but all you do
is hopping
on my bony shoulders
strolling my auburn hair
plaits
chestnuts shiver
burst out
full of desires bigger than yourself
you're a drunk
with drowned blue skies
all the berries of your verve
have surrendered the flood
I'm bleeding
I'm draining
the last day grimes
in the zero rushing river
I say it's enough of the muck
take it away
drink it tonight
with two bald ice cubes.
I cut the world.