The nostalgia map

Somewhere else the day happens to pass
Here, the seconds’ teeth jam your eyelids
Hang heavily by your eyelashes
Heave worming
You scatter yourself, you frown
The wrinkles are deforming your perspective
And the summer fails on the other shore
We are back to that waiting
Dayless, nightless
A kind of hope that in the other season
Something will happen
Something exterior to us
In no connection with the cannibal seconds
With the random deaths of our friends
A friendship will rise
Between a spade of grass and a passing kite
A grain of dust, a swallower of galaxies
Will swirl itself and waves as cuddles
Will caress the winnowed cheek, sieved by the galactic winds
And yes, right there, in that space where no Stellar dust rests
The time hasn’t been invented and
The day is yet measured with the circle

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