Incoherent scattered thoughts
under a moonless night
where I cannot see shape or shadow
moving on a frosted roof.
My breath is both frozen and warm
because it is winter and summer
on the black rubber roof
where I spy the moon
as big as a flying saucer
and as shapely as a cat’s eye.
I perceive that night too,
when we we reach our arms
towards the starry sky
and lean into the elemental traction
which pulls us upwards,
on a boat drifting through Deutschland.
For time moves in all directions,
here under this pitch black sky.