Love to listen to baroque from four to six a.m.
Wet streets are deafly lit by the traffic lights yellow intermittent glows.
Throbbing in time within the fog
As if they were the heart in lethargy of the city.
Desolate air.
Enjoying what is ignored by the slumberer
A string quartet so mystically yet mathematically structured,
gothic cathedrals soaked up in liturgical sounds,
imperishable symbols of their own defeat,
useless and yet beautiful yearning.
Frozen silence highways
For the ordinary madness a sense of custom
Individualization
To the quivering drug and inverse tolerance
Traffic informations.

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