Is that all that's left after love?
And what's left after it, at all?
A phone number which slowly fades from memory?
Mugs with engraved monograms, stolen from Esplanada,
After love left is the custom that white wine be sipped into two glasses and that the lines are on the same height.
After love left is a single table in a restaurant next to the "?" sign and the shocked look on the old waiter's face when he sees us with other people.
After love left is the sentence: "You look great, you haven't changed a bit..." And: - "Give me a call sometimes, you still have my phone number".
And some numbers of hotel rooms we've slept in, are left after love.
After love left are dark streets we've taken home, after love.
After love left are melodies on the radio which are slowly going out of style.
Left are secret signs, love ciphers: "If you love me, start your class tomorrow with three words which will begin with the letters of my name..." He walked into the amphitheater and said "In our avantgarde..."*. She sent him a kiss.
After love left is your side of the bedding and the fear that someone will come suddenly. Click - hanging up the telephone when a stranger's voice answers. Thousand and one lies.
After love left is the sentence which wanders the room like a ghost: "I'll go to the bathroom first!" - and the question: "Aren't we going together?"
No, not this time.
After love left are accomplices: keepers of secrets which aren't secrets no more.
After love left is the light disturbance when passing by I smell Cabochard on some unknown, dark-haired girl.
Full ashtrays and an empty heart. A habit of lighting two cigarettes at the same time, even though nobody is around. Photo booth pictures: taxi drivers who never loved us ("Thank you for not smoking!" - but we smoked), and flower sellers who did.
After love left is a hurt vanity.
Metal taste of failure.
After love left are other men and other women.
After love, left is nothing.
Shit!
* - this is a famous excerpt from Momo Kapor's book Una, in which Una engages in a relationship with her much older college professor. "In our avantgarde" in Serbian is "U našoj avangardi" the first letters forming her name, Una.
Comments
Post a Comment