KALEIDOSCOPE

We are in a Kaleidoscope.And things rotates with us.I see a brown table leg.A bird feather flying down over the Moyka.I see your kisses falling down on mines.I close my eyes and get dizzy.We talk strange languages.We recognize each other trough symbols,and,may be,it’s the better way.Do you know why?Because I’m tired of my language,of the use the people does of it.And,perhaps,if I knew your language it would happen to me the same sensation every time I hear you.So it’s better this which we made up.
Our hands.
Some words in English.
Anothers in your language.
Anothers in mine.Like little appetizers,like an introduction.Then a red martini.After one white.Two orange slices that escapes from the glasses and stamped in our firmament.Your blue blouse.My white shirt.Your intimates clothes.I see your breath crossing between the aspirins that rotates more and more faster.And my arms that enlarges to the bed borders and put on us the cover,protecting us of the snow,because now we are flying in the Petersburg sky.Nobody look trough the Kaleidoscope,we only.And,of course like all the parties,this has an end,and the planet stop rotating.Our hands,together,burned to the final.Then,we must to step out of the Kaleidoscope,stumble with the orange slices,the aspirins and the martinis.Again put on the clothes of every day.And then,I’m going back to my job.And you with your relatives.
Kaleidoscope.
It’s not a kid’s play.
Thanks for discovering it to me,my love