I have moved near to the sea.
It's good waking up to an euphoric view,
in this claustrophobic city.
Sometimes facing the surf on a squally day,
I stick my tongue out to feel the salt.
No one, but me knows what or whom am I thinking of.
No one ought to know. No one will ever know.
This space is not meant for pass-over dreams.
Now I feel like a bubble-gummed bubblehead.
And lack of the other one.