Short reel - by Eugenia Reiter

In a world full of wonders boredom was invented I don’t know what I will do with the fondnesses that will come every time you’re at the other end of the knife I feel inside of me a sort of secular fatigue accrued in the genealogical tree wealth of dark evenings that my forefathers - likeable plebeians – spend near the hearth I suffer the most of historical diseases rivers of journeys for the stomach invade me with astonishing interrogations blindnesses of happiness in a many hours coma when I levitate on the spot like an eagle without prey I feel myself in a leeway and cover the sidewalks with turtle slowness at the hour when the colours are grey and the adventure desire dies stumbling on the night’s fall I will let you see me by your own image taking advantage of attributes and macerating the logical order of my feelings I will like myself in a daily that dies ripped by the regularity of some “good day” and “good night” the poem which I thought to say goodbye through remained in an inkpot maybe that’s why I don’t do shopping for the whole week I never know what I wish for the next day