Seaside.

Somebody sent
over the fax machine
a cryptic message:

"Do you want to see me?"

And the Gregorians chanted
at the background
of the complex place I call the mind.

There is no telling if tomorrow
the war will break out.
Meanwhile I partake of the poetry
that her love inspired

and suddenly I am on fire.

I just realized that summer
is now ending quickly,
maybe because of the rhythm
brought by the waterfalls.

I would not really know.

I sat down to contemplate
life's trajectory. And brought
my thoughts to where
the river meets the sea.

For all things die there.

End there all
that make all things bloom,
like water,
and love.
And life,
and other non-essential things.

So I decided to respond:

"This weekend, perhaps."