the streets are lined by David McLean

the streets are lined with where they were
once – all those who simply stopped
like being was dust in nobody's pocket
and living sinful

the streets are lined with memories
and the fact that i do not remember them
and none are in any everyday heaven
where angels piece their days together

out of love and tiny flakes of snow
the recollection that collects in the nose
as the blood dries still in my lively veins
and crystals that line my face

are licked from the devil's threadbare
carpet, chewing the glass for my eyes
i do not remember them, never knew them
memories and life, just tired time

tonight


David McLean, Sweden