as old zagreb lies there
on the wait for a young friend driving,
i question myself, "Do you love nausea?";
seeing can't be this punishing
i suppose i shall offer the world only one ear:
a man's singing on the fm
if they dare to call it a song,
humanity is in great danger;
then, a female singer
does she look as she sounds?
she screams this lonely word "angels,"
meaning "poets"--
those predacious creatures
the big shall devour the small;
they dub it a game of survival?
look, if poems should lie for melodious rhythms
or abandon faith in coquettish rhymes
pull aside and stop, joko
let me change my mind and get off!
for going is now the last thing i want.
(Koprivnica 1993)
