i always ask
how many life stories does a man have
and which one is the fake

how would it be to think of a city again,
forgetting those feelings that have remained cozy for years,
of a sea that turned scarlet
of those who got missing while being tortured
of roads built on stakes
of our identity that is different and the same

while the city collapsing down upon us
with all its avenues and streets
while habits swallowing people
and while the street names being changed
who could believe in magic,
or fortune-telling by water or time deposit

surely i believe in myself,
the most constant of all beliefs
the language consisting of gestures and looks
the last of the ten commandments

i have no license regarding the society
my arms are tied behind my back
fake loves and happy marriages
just become me

while waiting in the still waters of life
the following is the thing that keeps my mind busy
how do managers' kids pass their class
picking my nose
playing doctor

you got it, i have been so lonely for ages

May 1989