don’t make grand gestures for me
they tire the soul
better I had breathed the air around your arms
consume me in the ample move of eyelids cutting all across the air
in smile.

let me
hold your forehead gently when you vomit, when you’re sick
forever sick
be your kindness
rather than your pride
rather a smile than a laugh.

call for me when beer tastes sour, when curse is on your lips
when autumn burdens on your back like water satchels
in moments when people are horrific cattle
smile with me, then
bear with me, then.

exult me with your distance, no promises at all
do write to me small nothings, like cabbage salad taste, the sound of your wrist watch
the warm bed in the morning
allow me in yourself when buying buss tickets, ice cream
and shoes that you might think would fit.

do not speak grand words to me, I do not wish it.
fill me with your loneliness, your way of looking at the slippers’ points when walking all the streets in your despair
bear with me, the little splint within your finger top
the one you stroke from time to time
the commonness of pain, again, again
I be your colored laundry,
I be a book page written with a lazy pencil

I’ve seen the rivers marked by fury, crushing on rock edges
disappearing quietly in golden
endlessness of scorched grass
there lies my name

bear with me, silently disappearing
in the cracks of your soles