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I'm waiting - Are you still waiting for something?
 
Karlheinz Loerner

The city takes a walk on the boardwalk.
The autumn paints the first leaves
under the high heels. The girls
leave the shade of the lime trees
stroking their hair. Women
pushing prams in columns of
their future worries over the pavement.
This is happiness in the city, an investment
plugged into the future in the new clothes
and I wait.

It is great that the stray dog
have no cell phones. They are not participating in
the progress and plant their marks
arbitrarily in every way. They already think of
the winter, because they know the patterns of
nature. Men wear here mainly
sunglasses under their shaven skulls,
Tattoos on muscles as a sign of strength
and I wait.

The eyes move faster than the feet.
In the cafe's birthday is celebrated. Flowers
in silk in the manicured hands.
They are passed into the vase,
with the lights of a fat and tired sun dancing in.
Plastic bags from the last purchase
in the small boutiques of the boulevard
Female sellers with folded arms
and I wait.

European Fashion, a promise
that nothing satisfies. - Mixed voices
Thoughts into a hard, strange language.
A small longing squeezed in a T-shirt.
Fertilities hidden in jeans,
Breasts that are empty promises,
Hips, reminiscent of children
in the slab of the suburbs
and I wait.

Ordered. - A cappuccino. This is common here.
Hair that has no roots in thoughts.
Triviality with smooth faces.
The jewelry is caught in an illusion of gold,
glistens in the décolleté by the autumn of the boulevard.
They all have famous names and celebrate the last days
Whether she knows that she will sit 
in a foreign kitchen tomorrow
and mentally counts the steps she had done?
and I am waiting

I'm waiting for the winter, the boulevards of the city
will be quiet, all the clothes will be closed
and shops will die. I hope that the city
will breath her cold on the window panes.
I'm waiting for the time when the sunglasses
will have no meaning and the frost
burrows into the skin folds. I'm waiting for the country
that its soil get washed into the streets and cleans the pavement
and I wait.

Only the networks, the keys from the horizon ago
pierce my eyeballs, the city lets me in
and arises again. Are you waiting on something?
What will arrive in this city next? Is it necessary,
the sound of the incoming swarms of locusts,
exhalation of the buses at the bus stops in the suburbs?
The heavy trains on bumpy tracks,
knocking a lost rhythm in the return?
And I wait

Contribute to the return of wolves in the steppes
the pounding herds of bison and the
smell of blood in the front yards of the hunt, the clumps of
hawks in the suburbs, I feel the exploding concrete.
Feel to the grate in the pursuit of a bridge,
 its collapse is already preplanned in the construction
The cities have no future, where you 
don't need to meet people
And I wait,

The city should be the end of the days, 
that belly of the soil eats the countries,
eats the living land to himself
as death, the enemy of paradise.
Prostitution is in the suburbs
and the gangs wait in the dead end streets
for the victims. And those who wait
for the police will find a murderer
that looks for fresh meat for the laboratories
and I wait

Isn't it so, that there is no way out
in the daylight? Haven't you seen the money
that sits in fat haunches on the ruins 
of the beachclubs. Didn't you see the writings
on the walls. Nothing is left of the culture
than sexshops offering a cold and dead lovestory
Why don't you leave and carry your children?
Didn't I tell you enough about the city of future
and are you still waiting for something?