How To Wear Collar Pins Fire

soul of little poetry, and other men who trained


Jan Saudek

you're in love with me because it looked like your father, so to speak. There is no pass stolen, returned, however, that I took thee. In stumbling hesitation. The sand under the heel sounded like the salt of certain words between his teeth, love, remember? In the words then, I have always done what the fuck I wanted, I learned to spit lying as you know. Saliva, it is better to free running, as some cyclists climbing. But as I said, I was resting, always in the afternoon, just before they did the voices of metal, a foot wrong, as befits a pig in search of rhyme. But little grunting inside his jacket, with waist slow puzzled air is not love, it is rather the fear that you will seize the sunrise in the middle of the parking lot with shopping bags in the back seat and the bird in your hands, and you never find a kleenex after. Then there is the story of steam on the glass that has the same smell of our dinner yesterday, but it was not what I wanted to talk to you, not now anyway. I left because it looked like your father. Too bad, if you only you had that mustache cut.