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?