poc poc poc

poc-poc-poc stropii grei si reci pe umbrela mea, un boschetar sprijinit de gardul de sarma din statia de tramvai, raspandind un iz ascutit de gunoaie statute prea multa vreme in soare, o doamna ascunsa cu totul sub o umbrela uriasa, portocalie, electorala
poc-poc-poc si cateva masini trec in tromba improscandu-ne cu noroi lichid, rece
poc-poc-poc, e verde in jur si miroase a frunze, si privesc lumea prin panza rosu-translucid, in casti curge “Bedshaped” si ma gandesc ce moment perfect melancolico-cinematografic ar fi asta, doar ca nu e, ’cause i’m not sad & suffering, din contra

si-acum un anunt important pentru tara: s-au copt dudele!

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