Lausanne sous la neige by Rama [CeCILL (http://www.cecill.info/licences/Licence_CeCILL_V2-en.html) from Wikimedia Commons |
I want to write something for you
something special
but it seems that won't do.
You were something far beyond us.
Some unreachable star.
Already.
Ten years back - seventeen -
Late nineties.
All of us craved for you.
He did more than I,
he was probably right.
But he died
not from it -
from something closer to what he had always been
- ludicrous -
but not quite
the same.
I want to write something
because I surfed past you a lot lately
and saw how grown-up you are
half smiling
bare naked
in front of cameras
reading your poems
& prose
to audience
everywhere
you go.
I wanted to write something special
but it seems I didn't. Do
you care if I hate you
now?
He'd written something for you.
Something special.
Something good.
Let's not the tea go cold -
it was called.
He is cold now
and so are you
lost in the Swiss snow.
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