Riding on the sea horses seeing all things purple, bruises on your neck, marks I made with my teeth; I rage, my nerves rage as I hear your silence tolling far away bells.

Some play clarinets, some play the guitar but baby Time plays with my heart, in this town they call Tears City.By the way adios is another word for goodbye,another jackpot that I didn't expect to win.

The world is an interesting place, there are safaris going out all the time to watch the chicks, on the main drag they say people are lined up two feet deep searching for this miracle called love. But I am stuck here duelling with my whiskey and gin, riding on sea horses.

On the end of the line she says, "Oh boy, you are such a catch", I say "Thank you maam, but I don't belive in that nomore". She says, "You are a good person but you are not good enough for me". I have nothing left to say, so I jump into my saddle and ride away.

Tonight I see the neon lights waving at me. There are people on the street where Jaguar pours out thunder and beat. I see seas lapping at all those feet, why is my vision blurred and why is there salt on my lips,why does my chest heave and why are my fists clenched? Bring me my horses, I wanna ride away.

I go to bar and sit in a corner, she says "What can I get you ?" I say "I need a hug but I will take a beer instead". On the TV they call a car "she" and she invited me for a free ride. Everyone wants to sleep with someone else but none know where to begin so they fight each other to death. "Hey you! bring me my bill cos I am checking outta here."

I roam the desolation, how does the air taste without your smell don't ask, I devour the summer sky, what does the dark hold without you, don't look. I am riding this train beyond the end of the line, watch me wave through windows panes as you wait for the train to pass, cos baby this time I am riding away on my sea horses into the deep dark unkown seas.

Cos baby I am riding away into the seas... riding away...

2002:04:20 22:00 Atlanta

Here landscape has turned jade, and general attire has become shorter. I too wear shorts occasionally and occasionally eat American. Not often.

In my dreams, there hangs a gulmohar bleeding flowers, in my dreams I still row a boat in rivers of dirt covered men. And gunfire? Today's news carried enough.

Fashion, that I don't know. Which shows top the charts, that I don't know too. In the weave of days and nights I prowl rattling the cage. I etch my words on silences.

Exile is a evocative word, I have frequented it's use in the streets of red light districts. There eyes line up every night to catch a ferry to this land in a fair exchange of flesh and cash.

Today rain closes the sky in steely bars of water as time attempts a closure of wounds that bloomed rabidly. Everywhere your ghostly kisses still pierce my skin like rusted accupuncture needles which now cause pain.

I take long walks in wild grass and carry home clothes burnished with scattered seed. Scattered too is Myself after I set out on drifting continents. Sometimes I measure my waist and sometimes I measure my forgetting Like this.

2002:04:21 23:30 Atlanta

Some day, if I should ever lose you, will you be able then to go to sleep without me softly whispering above you like night air stirring in the linden tree?

Without my waking here and watching and saying words as tender as eyelids that come to rest weightlessly upon your breast, upon your sleeping limbs, upon your lips?

Without my touching you and leaving you alone with what is yours, like a summer garden that is overflowing with masses of melissa and star-anise?

Translated by Albert Ernest Flemming