Nowadays wherever I go I see a man,
so many balloons tied to his thin and curved thumb.
And whenever I do something he makes one of them go away from this fuel burning city.
When one day I crossed the road with the rainbow coloured cars by me,
he cut the string of a red one…
I saw it going along the windows of high-rises,
like a snake go through the fireflies.
Now another day he went for two blue ones with white and black dots all over it,
when I kissed my girl in a neon bar; holding her face with my wet hands…
Still wet from the whiskey I was going to drown.
All of his balloons are gone but still he is sticking around me…
always with a cigarette and a smile of old hippies.
It is getting into my nerve…

‘So man; do you have another one of those cigarettes?’
‘Sure do. Here…’
‘Yeah thanks. So I am not seeing any balloons with you today.’
‘No I have my last one.’
‘Where it is? And when you are gonna get done with that?’
‘Right after you give me a firm mother fucking hug.’
Now I know people don’t die from lack of hugs, but they surely become miserable shits.
‘Okay. Come.’

I am seeing myself loosing my feet from the ground,
I am loosing gravity to be existential.
‘Hey asshole, so I am your last balloon.’
‘No you are my first lantern.’

…………………………………………………………….

Photograph: Joel Robison.