When it’s plus 6 in Stockholm there’s plus 30
in Agadir. I needed knitted gloves today when
I biked to the grocery store. And I was thinking
of you meantime biking. How are you doing?
The cold iced my legs in jeans when I biked
home again. I was thinking about you. Slowly
rolls our time and I trample and trample my life
in front of me. And I’m still living without you.
For how long will it be? Forever? Plus 6 here
and plus 30 in Agadir and nothing between us,
not even tears. You will not call me. And I will
not call you. I know, I know. And the wheel roll.
No getaway. Later on we’ll be dead and it’ll be
forever, I in Stockholm and you in Agadir.