I listen to a cursed song
under a cloudless sky in Malmö
someone else’s bad experience
with absolute truth is stuck
like a dagger of ice
in my spine
I’m waiting for my friend
who is more real
than me
but we both have a
negative amount of money
like an arrow cancelling
every sober idea
I listen to penguins on the
South Pole
making patterns in the snow
I see them slouch around as a mirage
from the smoke of my cigarette