Under a bar

and then when I hear you
at the bar with all the blows you’ve received

the seasons wandered beyond the window pane
and you question yourself like in politics, it seems unreal

“You go further than I want,” you say then
when I touch you and ask to descend deeper,

your head wet with sweat, “you go too far”, you say,
“and you’re too much into it,” another one yells at me

while I think of how it used to be
when I banged my bike against the wind, then threw you on the table and….

“One and one is two, hooray!” you remembered
that was the conclusion after we talked there in the bar where silence

followed us more often than the conversations of the lady at the bar
she saying “That feeling of sucking a man, I’ve had that.”

“Shift your focus!” Says a voice on an iPad, “and do what you need to do, free yourself
and see what can come.” If you stop and become your own medicine man.

It was hard to get used to, but it wasn’t that bad, tone deaf or not, the poetry
vanished naturally, the solution was on the table, in front of a glass of whiskey,

clear and with a golden look

for free and for nothing, she told me I could go on by myself if the insight had not peeked

too deeply I reached the bottom, like a train that arrived too late

I continued the journey,
and left you at the bar where it smelled like a post it

with greetings from a lost paradise