there is in the air an absence of memory

a forgetting of happenings

a face becoming hard to place

the contours shift

the smile is fading

all that remains is a phrase

‘it’s raining here too…’

bryan adams asks for forgiveness

in the background.

what’s there to forgive?

but to forget….

so much

a lifetime

two lifetimes

maybe more

Jung lives in the recesses of your dreams

where neither you nor your mother win

and the man you love is neither a vomitus

nor a projection of your father

forgive me if I seem irrelevant

somewhere in my wake and dream

I like myself as I am

a punctuation mark between the war

that tore my being into two countries

hating both

loving all

I breach the laws of borders

with the wind blowing hither and thither

pulsating between right and wrong

I make your morning bread

with due respect

and an apology not needed I

make my bed like I am the only one

who will sleep here tonight

not waiting for your approval

like a foreign office stamp

that will allow me to cross the border

to eat with my friends

the woman in you needs permission

from the wolves only

rapture of a higher psyche

a reversal of fortune

men dont exist

where women live

they breathe because you do