The Day & Night Cafe, No. 4

Life, as a fake, translated…

After Sipping Up that Final Sip of Café Vienna, I’d Gotten Up

Decided to Take the Trains Southbound to Vienna in the Night, He, Who’s Japanese-German

Fluent in German, Recalled How His People Were Defeated in World War II

Life was Like an Auction, with the Highest Bidders Winning

like this???  Not my photograph…

And, After the War, Those Who’d Made the Low Bids Dropped out One by One

The Two Still Standing, Fighting to Win;

The Auctions of Love is Full of Dangers

The Auctioneers can Only Laugh & Make Fun of Themselves

And, There May be, Falsified Love Here as Well

We Needed to Wait Until the Show’s Over to Know the Truth

Understanding, How Every Move is Hinting at Something Else

Like a Kiss, that was, a Kiss Goodbye

A Hug, for the Final Last Time

which one is the real me, I’m totally confused here!  Not my photograph…

That Keyring of Happiness, is a Memorabilia

Continuous, the Beginning is the End, the End, Beginning

But, I Couldn’t Get at, that Tear I’d, Wiped Off My Cheeks

From that Bath I’d Taken Before

Pushing the Doors Outward, Feeling the Fourth & Fifth Spinal Column Ache Lightly

Was Virgil, Was Aldermann, Elderly?

Must be, Confused with the Time then?  Everyone Was Once Young & Pretty

The Young Lovers, Flew Away Together, But it Never Lasts, He’d Insisted

the distorted versions of the self, not my artwork…

That Giving Up is Not Giving in, She Does, Love Him, Just Couldn’t, be with Him Forever

Turned Out, that Was, Their Last Time, Especially, Arousing, Especially, Sexual

He’d Walked Toward the Crowd in the Clock Tower, Fully Dressed

The Fakes Looked Good on the Outside, and Only He Knew, His Own, Worthlessness

Afterwards, there Shall be, No Clocks, No Way to Tell Time

Nobody Shall, Ever Know, Nothing Had, Happened Here

So, this, is someone’s realizations, that everything s/he desired, was absolutely, NOTHING of importance, and, instead of changing the ways, changing one’s own behaviors, this character just, keeps on living, in the untrue forms of himself…

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