Mr. E e Ani

Dear cousin,
I got your letter
It was more than i thought i deserved
Well she sounds perfect, all i dream of
And i dream about so much it is absurd
But when i get there and she sees me
I'll be impressed if she does not run screaming
My kind of love is an ugly love
But it's real and it lasts a long, long time
I had a thought while i was sleeping
And i dreamed about a place for us to rest
Eternity under the old oak tree
But i go too far i guess
Maybe i'll think about tomorrow
And maybe i can get her to stay that long
'cause my kind of love is an ugly love
But it's real and it lasts a long, long time
And if she finds me so repulsive
She wouldn't be the first to wretch
Well i decided one day long ago
I was never gonna be the greatest catch
And if she cares about the car i drive
Then she can get in hers
The moment i arrive


"Dois recantos do mesmo quarto"



thirty-three years go by
and you loosen the momentum of teenage nightmares
your breasts hang like a woman's
and you don't jump at shadows anymore
instead you may simply pause to admire
those that move with the grace of trees
dancing past streetlights
and you walk through your house without turning on lamps
sure of the angle from door to table
from table to staircase
sure of the number of steps
(...)
new as you are, really, to the idea that
even after you've long since gotten used to the parameters
they can all change
while you're out one night having a drink with a friend
some big hand may be turning a big dial
switching channels on your dreams
until you find yourself lost in them
and watching your daily life with the sound off

Belfast abandonado

Recordo onde te procurei após a perda. No lugar onde julguei ver-te novamente, sob um nome que agora era o teu. Sei que me disseste que não eras tu, que agora andavas por outras paragens mas não acreditei. Continuo a não o fazer. Por razões de sentimento ainda te vejo lá, na tua varanda sem porta, a cruzar a brisa da chama de outros tempos. Pois que cada um se feche de vez e encontre abrigo atrás das palavras que temos medo de trocar.