This country has millions of beautiful women

And all of them are sad.

In my dreams, I walk through shadows of mango trees

Covering the boulevard, and the harmonious music

Gradually fades away.

Are they resting, hurrying, thinking

Or looking in their handbag for keys, or phone?

This country has trillions of automatic actions

Per second and everyone is alone.

The lead singer, in the light, has drummers and violins

To facilitate the final grand crescendo.

I duck into the forest of street lamps,

Thinking of one of the last moments with her in the café

And wonder how many signs have been selected to tell me where to go.

Don’t miss your opportunity, she tells me,

Giving me confident advice and hope—in the misery

I can feel from here. There’s a Japanese company

In your country and if you work hard and she decides she will never leave,

Marriage can be the answer, and you will only occasionally grieve.

Bombs will solve the need for reforms, and TV

Reruns can keep the construction crews comforted, late at night,

As the grin in the face of laugh tracks will make them feel everything is alright.

Laughter. That will do it. A little seafood and wine.

A perfect sauce. The Nibelungen. T.S. Eliot singing softly beside the Rhine.





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