I remember 
when we sat in that
old apartment in Budapest
and read French decadent poetry
and you wore those grey
cozy pants all day
and we lit candles
in the cold rooms
and outside
those deep windows
we saw the snow fall
over Donau
and the grey streets of Budapest
we had no momey 
and had to buy noodles
and vegetables
at the Vietnamese store
further downtown
naked under the stars of Budapest
we had ten dimes to our names
but we had those days of poetry 
and red wine 
in that old apartment 
and there was nothing more to it
but then you got sick
with some strange disease
and I couldn’t afford to pay the medical bill
and you died a couple of weeks later
and I was evicted from the apartment
and had to suck dick
for money
at the toilets
at the central train station
and then I died
naked with vomit
all over my body
alone in some cellar
at some mad man’s house
and it all ended
but let us just forget about
that for a moment
and think about how
nice it was
in Budapest
when we were young
and poor
and lived in that
cold beautiful apartment
and we were truly naked
under the stars

_________________________

November makes your skin grey
makes your eyes grey
makes your face grey
November even makes the
leaves and the houses grey
and people have a wet sponge
where they used to have their hearts
November kills us
and we keep on dying for many months
until, at last
the colour of hope emerges
in the trees
and the bushes
and light creeps inside
our hollow dead
bodies,
and blows life
into it all again
but for now
we can drink, and practice
at being dead in a dark tomb 
thank you Scandinavia
it’s been a pleasure serving you
even though you have taken
almost everything
there is to take