Moon walk

I heard the faint sound

the sound of angels rushing

and see the moon transforming

into a giant hut which hangs

over the German streets

People coming across a bridge

waiting in the salon for a coffee

And I drinking the wine from

a chalice from the holy Troika

having roots on a German street

The people looking at flying shadows

projected white images on the wall

and the farmers eating potatoes

while the domestic dogs on the unleash

barking into the face of the moon

a German businessman drawing smoke

from a cigar, glares at the stairs to the moon

how far the love could go? asked the giant Solomon

The sluts emerging from the roof

and walking tip-toe to the cemetery

a few flowers strewn there

and a wine of the forgotten land

laden by the side all forgotten in the sun

My memory of you melding with snow

and appetite for love growing wild

as is the column of man who has lost

the game of cards to the ducks

the chatter of girls unfolding into

a prater of nonsense, the moon

forming the love statue for the whores

who chatter on and on like a stale German wine!

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