The Postcard


Lately we are going to the woods very often
Woods are for grownups
Early mornings as well
When we are not sleeping
When we are not dreaming of ships

For grownups is closeness
For grownups are lenses
Microscopes and washing machines

Laying around the streets
Used up knees
Rolled up in a blanket like a burrito
Freedom is corpulent
Freedom is fat jeans
Freedom is calorific
Has greasy palms
Cracked heels

The carpet at the main square is soaking up
The hunger

Beyond the train curtains
Cats are wriggling
Cockerels are disturbing
Earings* are growing
Night and day* is growing
Quiet brutality is breathing
Common as nose bleading
Boys are growing

Boys and fists

At the end of the day
She envies you for
Ocean freshness of monumental
vertigo high concrete-queens
That are entering through your window
Through which legs, newcomers are passing through
Big eyes

She envies you for loneliness
For farawayness


*in serbian mindjusice  and dan i noc mean earings and night and day, but in the same time are the names of flowers that people are growing in suburbs