Sunday, March 23, 1997



I find myself best in you Frida
And so I pledge my allegiance
to your patriotic beauty:
to your harvest hair falling
to your fair features white
And to your shy in the sky eyes
holding back but the weakest shade.
Frida, my beautiful baltic affirmation,
you fly the colors of my desire.

It began as a piece of cake
Too present perfect, like your icy accent
(I never thought I would have you too).
You were à la mode after dinner
A sweetness that lingered till morning
A pie I was willing to have in my face.

Smoking into my pores;
At work I sweat with your memory
Absently dropping cups and glasses
Losing myself in your bouquet.

We have a few laughs
Then you play Humpty Dumpty on my heart
In a country without queen.
I lay and wait for a young Saint Nick
Fat on Swedish meatballs
To go back north,
So I can put the pieces back together.

Now I sit doubled over in love
Committing romantic Hari Kari;
Like a peddler of cheap clichés
Trying to sell you my pain.
And all I can do is reach for you
Through these bars of broken verse
Trying vainly to span the distance
to overcome the balance of injustice
and Saint Nick’s perfect part.

Doing time in a café outside your flat
I hope to catch a glimpse of you on the way to the metro;
My whisky blind eyes read hope
Like sunlight waiting behind clouds.

In the morning I awake shivering in wait
For this frigid front to blow over.
I'm not sure who is more puzzled,
You or I
Whose heart breaks again every day
Yet still joins you every night.

I’ll believe for the both of us.
It's not the same old music,
It's Ave Maria.
And whatever the song
I'm ready to sing.