poemproducer / geneva

TRAPPED IN GENEVA

she walks through crowed sunday night chic
headphones around her bare neck
she doesnt listen to music (she is lovesick)
she wants to hear the cities soundtrack

moving. living. pulsing. ticking

an old men is carrying his tiny doggy
a yound beautiful men is jogging by
she gets aware of her own body and beauty
how neglected her system and why

she is alone in geneva
and the climate is loose and mild
a phone is ringing in an empty building.
a connection untried

a group of young african dancers
cheer at her confidentlay
she doesnt smile back
the smiles recoil and pass away

it makes her feel cruel
she is wishing them best
but their music and
their drugs are not for her to rest

she is looking for
an asian restaurant and walks
to still her void. she stops
to write down what she just thought

when she arrives at the harbour. she starts to feel calm
kissing couples on benches. the world seems to be alright

she hopes that she would be accepted
alone between the ones having a ripping good time
when she hits the stones by the surf - she cries.

.
when she starts walking again she gets impressed
about the silence of the huge fontane
is overwhelming powerful water fest
the water eases her pain

her glasses are broken
someone stepped on them last night in a dirty club
its a crack through the right eye
she looks like she got beaten up.

she enters the poshy chinese restaurant
the waiter is surprised to seat her alone
she asks for for the english menu
and the most private place
they put her seperate unshown

she orders an expensive dish roasted duck
she needs to tuck up
a habit tonite and eat something violent
even she is a vegetarian monument

she counts the swiss frank
she grabed from the table when she left.
somewhere in the space between trapped
and handicaped
she orders tsing tao and lights a cigarette

in geneva the chilly is crystal
poshy. expensive. polished and vain
a broken day in a perfect system
a unmissed stroke of pain

when she finishes the dish
she smokes 3 cigarettes in row
the tsing tao is not in a hurry
she feels bleak and low

the table neighbours mobile rings too loud
he speaks english with unrecognizable accent

in geneva the chilly is shining. she starts to freeze
like the jewels in the shopping windows
they seem to be wealth/ hoop for nobody underlining
just a cliche to fullfill which nobody bothered to cease

her table neighbor starts a conversation
that he is from malaysia. working for the goverment
and he stopped smoking 107 days ago
and asks if she is here for business or vacation
he is nice. she wishes him a good stay in geneve
bon apetite and leaves

she walks home and types herstory in her powerbook. ready to evoke a rhyme. the connection is broken
the tender built love line unwoken
her hair is shining. her screen is her hook