Crossroads.
The paths we take.
How do we get here?
Drunk, smoking at my window sill
I would really do anything
to break the silence inside.
Sometimes I observe the keys in my hand
a glass of water in the kitchen
time stops and I see myself
from a weird angle:
I am not myself.
As a matter of fact
I am not anyone I used to know
there is this creature diving out.
It takes time for the bubbles to reach the surface.
My son sitting in a tub, smiling.
You sitting in the hospital bed
such a deep silence.
Everyone's thousands of kilometers away
each one a silhouette in the woods.
My son smells the bubbles
when I start to drown in the open sea.
He doesn't forget me.
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