on Postcard #3 - Cologne - Songs for the Breathless



I know you are a cardboard man, I don‘t
trust your shining eyes. it‘s just the sun
that‘s shining through cutouts in your
cardboard face. I trace your outline in
the dust that gathers on my window
sill. why do I recall your name? why do
I remember still? can we claim that we
could sense? can we claim that we could
see? do I have a right to say that you
disappointed me?