Hometown

i hate being in bremen. i arrive, i look in the mirror, and i can't see myself: my spiegelbild did a runner. i know, once i'll have left here, it'll take the better part of a week for it to come back to me.

i am 80 years old, walking the same streets all over again. no surprises anymore, i know every step, every stone along the way. i am 15 now, kissing a man i kissed 15 years ago. i am 15 forever, doing the xmas roam through friends' families who can't see nothing but the past in us.

31 again, i get depressed about the state of things. the street where my mother lives, it's disintegrating, dying. every half year another death in another house. greedy people slip handwritten messages into the letterbox: "are you thinking of selling your house?"

it's the night of the 25th, i've got mail from a friend: "got to get out of here fast. will go hamburg first, then berlin." that's exactly how i feel, that's exactly what i'll do.