Full moon


She rang me up late the other day
tickling me with an impatient sweetness from the other end of the phone
“let’s just go out...”
summer nights in the city are a good excuse for a drive or a walk
even on a school night;
the good people of this world are in bed by midnight
and the less of them out there, the better...
So we drove,
slow then faster,
until it was time to leave the car;
we walked by abandoned buildings
covered in graffiti
through half-lit alleys
that are not always as quiet as they seem at first;
this is when you need a third eye
or a camera
taking pictures of junkies is not a good idea, she warned me,
but i took a hazy photo anyway
the flea market and its antique shops were shut at this late hour,
except for one...
no matter how late you turn up at the man’s doorstep,
he’ll be there
selling old records
and bronze frames of people no one remembers,
pearls and worry beads,
broken clocks and dusty mirrors
cherished keepsakes
that don’t shine anymore...



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