ONE MORE NIGHT IN THE PENTHOUSES

One more night in the penthouses. High air, high life. Waxed shoes and yellow drinks. Party at the table. Party in the sleeping rooms. Party next to the fridge, next to the microwave, next to the wc.

I went out at the balcony, late, at maybe 3. Big black waves. Dark houses, empty beach. And in the edge of the water – one big, quiet greyhound. Moving slowly like a ghost, worried, calm and magic. So thin and so fragile and lost. I felt so sorry and I fell asleep.

Woke up in the tanning chair under Lolas big red umbrella. The dog was gone and the beach cold and blue. 5 and confused.