Trafika Europe 8 - Romanian Holiday

Claudiu Komartin

Autumn Still Comes Without Us

You see, we can too, he told me, we can feel safe too, we can lose story lines without feeling ashamed, we can smoke easy, hearing the city’s breath, its sounds slowed in the cold we can go out on the balcony and light fireworks now syntax is a mist in which we cut down random silhouettes, shapes that shatter in an instant great galleons of smoke travelling east and, with our neurotic chatter, attend the watch someone left ticking on the handrail as if we expect something irrefutable to come, something that strong cables enter and exit shiny veins of black thinking of the autumns we could have blown our brains out hollering

hollering like hell, like after a job well done

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