Conversation at
Breakfast
We remain like two
lanterns on a narrow street
alienated by the light
of day,
separated by the
darkness of night.
For a short moment
the pale light of dusk
envelopes us.
Between you and me
there is loneliness like
black asphalt.
In the depths of puddles
the world without colors
can be seen.
All is seemingly calm,
only the mild wind wrinkles reflection.
The leaves from the trees fall to the ground
just like our dead, dispassionate words.
Gas Light -- Stephan Wanger
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