Waiting for coffee 
In broken English

We impose desire
In between the air
Of airport transit
And the promised threats
At destination

Words are slices of time
Together with few bags
They travel with us
After the duty free 

If surrounded by noise
They allow forgetting
I will love you
As a collateral of revolution

Shyness messes with class privilege
I am a bad minority -- my ancestors
Are without electricity
Or blood
They stopped fixing broken lightbulbs
When few years ago
A miracle caused no one to change
My hair grew despite porn
And when I sat next to the candidate
I smiled politely and desired him
One of the campaign alternatives was suicide
So we stayed outside the masses
And handed out fake emails
We failed and failed and it worked out

Some days I am grateful for insomnia
Like when you sleep on my shoulder
And it softens my politics
There is no need for the imagination
A world is ending slowly
I am sipping tea instead of coffee
And I am grateful
For the poetics of walking the streets
For the luxury of insomnia 
When you sleep on my shoulder
And it softens my politics

After short struggles against ergonomics
I cook breakfast
And we gain one more day because of storytelling

All we had to offer then was our obedience
And they accepted it
Although - in truth - it was never enough
To build a comfortable story around childhood
Or about the nothingness of our modified resumes 
Our cities were dusty
Our cities were massacre ready:
They taught the shapes of our bodies to all kind of sociologists
And transformed our obedience into mild ridiculousness 
Then secured our existence from staff changes in the middle of the shift
We drank our alcohol safely
It was worth the blood...

these cracks
filled with carbohydrates
in the dust of the bourgeoisie
and its imposed death
the world weighs 
we are created equals
within an illegitimate love
and the different shapes of fear

I want to write you this dirty 
Email about desiring your 
Desire and vice versa - this email
Will be a snapshot of 
Our bodies and it will be 
Inadequate - it won't be able
To fully recall how it felt having
Breakfast at the greasy spoon
While we smelt of each other -
No wait - you took a shower - I
Didn't - I wanted you on my skin
For few extra hours - and then in
This strange city - all cities
Are strange - we found that
Making love for long yields
Happiness - I am happy today
Reading books and I want to
Write you this dirty email
About nothing

This is not about seduction
It is about hanging out tonight 
While surrounded by capitalism
It rains
And we call it love
This continuous threat of collapse

I want to be lost in Seattle dimness 
Turning slowly into a nature poet
Writing about leaves changing colors
And ugly highways - I will ride the bus to work
And hide from the passengers - I will 
Also hide hope in an okay refrigerator

We have to accept the naivete of the of the world
As money moves us from one parking lot to the next
While chanting useless words to mark our involvement 
In these deaths -- now I look at a long street daily
And it doesn't help to think of the division of labor
As the starting point of this tragedy

It is admirable to do things other than touching one another
I'm talking here about language -- its fumes, and miniature arguments
The visio diagram we drew won't take us anywhere 
This is a salute to desire as the mad ones linger behind
We ride the cart -- socialist and business strategists
To go there - a clean suburb of Facebook posts

It is an ending world, so no one writes us
In the middle of it I mentioned you
And now I am Northbound -- 
So I cry when seeing things melting -
In this great melting pot

Feeding our devices electricity
They produce imaginary lovers
And white collar immigrants:
Tonight I'll hitchhike 
Through many doorknobs 
Maybe all of this hinges on Aristotle
We still have to find an exit strategy
Through these black and white squares