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It is so easy to destroy love
(or rather abandon it as a bad law,
it is no time being pathetic,
I am pleading myself) -
just take it
and shake it and wear it out
sleep with it, eat it, take a bath together
in a washing machine
taste the rags that come out
come on, consume
until botulism kicks in inevitably...
Something will lie down
between love and you
as a sealed railway crossing
as a totalitarian borderline that
cannot be crossed
as the rebirth
when they tell you the child cannot be born
as the sword that once lay between the knight
and the virgin...
Inevitably
memories of the Belgian
with the odd name Zenon Koval come to mind
and I remember his smart remarks
on cigar smoking:
heaven, that is what you call the first third of a cigar
straw, that is what you call the second third
and when it comes to the final third
it is time to drop it
Some ash
lies between me and love
of course, burns
on our hands, connecting those two parallels
of the railroad
some love lies between me and you,
my love

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