My room has white-washed walls
a nude, immaculate bed
and a chair.
Uneven unreal steel grey blinds creak under
Chewing continuously chewing
the crisp white light
flooding my eyes
Enticing the rummaging busy streets
buzzing pavement cafés
tooting of cars feverish taxis
unrequited callings…

Even when dawn unzips this sleepless city with a grin
sliding faultlessly skyline and sea
precise and accurate as a surgeon’s cut

Its disquieting waters glistening by the harbor
in restlessness
Its silvery-white tangle of squares rectangles roofs
dice thrown at random ruins amidst lush sweltering gardens
hollow shapes beaten by sunshine
perfectless incandescent circles
Entwined, chaotic yet mesmerizing geometry
Thou unquiet urban temple of the postindustrial quest:
Sensuous
Greedy
Inescapable.
My room has nude, immaculate walls
fused by tangerine fugitive sundowns
and my Van Gogh’s madness of sweltering nights
and moonspiners.