Gokcen Ergene

My skull. Stocks fall. Where did I leave it? The butcher shop. 27 steps from the stoop where I found her scarf. Two pairs of shoes, one jacket black, one navy blue sweater. One handwritten letter received; pertaining to a ghost story from nine years ago; still breathing. Maker’s Mark. Barbie. Slow but persistent. Time well spent without pity. 4th kiss on the way up the block; exchanging securities for momentary premise. Cultivated stretches of compensation. Reversal of one agreement; a bargain but a friend lost. A tangible negotiation with her blonde hair; postponed for now. New laces. Rilke. Dig Lazarus. Bob Dylan. Understanding a little more. Champagne. 2 new dice. One evening lost in a room so small. Hugged Japanese person. No vote. Reorganization. An attempt at letting somebody love me; quick apology, quick retrieval. A package from mother with my baby towel and panther bedsheets. Cigarettes as usual, coffee under control, whiskey my love and chocolates for you.

Ending this autumn with Musil’s “Progress would be wonderful - if only it would stop.” and opening the door to winter with Walser; “I shall never let myself be rescued nor shall I ever rescue anybody.”