The Trap

Your hands were filled with songs

your feet touched the green water

your dreams strolled in the streets

your thought dictated the rhythm of the day.

The din of cars and neon signs

hid the echo in the poor quarters;

night howled in the muddy streets

two friends exchanged the sacred oath.

Who would have told you, the one in the cap

his burning eye, unkempt beard,

yellow spittle, blurry speech

that slid in the gut like burning iron?

You believed him and without another thought

entered the narrow street with no exit

who would have told you, the one in the cap?

He set you a sweet trap and now it’s too late.

Essen, 1977