Opel Corsa Sail

Three drunken nights

in a row,

frozen, seized muscles

and the smell

of toothpaste

of deodorant.

Smoking worth

three bucks.

Welcome,

you're there.

Closed eyes

against the afternoon sun.

Again -

Who the fuck IS Alice?

The evening is a story

on its own

with falling into ponds

and harem pants

and hours that

you don't remember.

But then

the stars come out

and you can't stop

gazing, wondering.

You haven't seen

so many

at once.

The moon's fucking beautiful

and when he looks at you

so are you.

But there is

just something

which stops you

over and over again.

Unresponsive

and nonreciprocal.

Separation.

Ten minutes

and one call later

he's back

and so are you.

His eyes

never move away

neither do his

fingers.

Your skin smells

of him.

You have half

a corsa sail

for him to

pin your hair

behind your ear

and ask you

very softly.

You have half

a corsa sail

to know

that you would give up

almost anything

for that moment

to last into eternity.

Right then in

his arms.

You have half

a corsa sail.