giggling from too little
non-EU christiania hasish
i missed my mark
you
as i javelined
leftover smørrebrød
into a green rubbish bin
leaned a perfect something degree
for the greater comfort
of cyclists
wrapped in
aurora
contentment.
stockholm was
cold but
you
were colder
the picture of
health (first world)
i heard you accidentally
took pictures of the interior
of the darkrooms
at the berghain
(a couple were lying
bored out of their skulls
in a corner)
enlighten me.
under flaubert’s
large round table
in mahogany
i saw it
a kitty bowl
of arsenic.
Divagyrations 