It's all the same

I grow old in this same café,
reading the same newspaper,
drinking the same frappe
or café au lait.
(It depends on the season.)

In the morning I’m kissing the same lips;
it’s a mechanical gesture now.
My best friend still calls to tell me how
we can make a lot of money.
My girlfriend always says when I leave:
“See you later, honey!”
Even when I’m masturbating
I repeat the same old phantasies.
And every Sunday
I’m walking among the same dying trees.
And in the mirror
is again the same face,
my face,
I rest my case,
I just rest my case.

It's all the same

omitofo

Bucharest, Romania

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