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Sretne ulice III
u vlažnom pijesku tvoje nadlaktice
nacrtan je morski konjic
uhode mora
prodavale su jučer u bescjenje
svilenkasto meso školjaka po
praznim tržnicama

u aulama školjki
zastakljenim dječjim glasovima i sedefom
slušali smo sagu o bonaci
kada je more kao zrcalo
u kome možeš vidjeti svoje lice
kroz tisuću godina i

to je ta priča
uredno stornirani semestri
plave kuverte rujna
u disco clubovima na periferiji
tvoje se gaćice miksaju s pneumatskim
udarcima bubnja čekića
lusteri isijavaju šalove
prvoga večernjeg znoja

u stiropornim plahtama
užareni asfalt
kada opuste otvoreni vrtovi uz cestu  
sanja cijelo svitanje
meki razvrat tvojih stopala
Happy streets III
in the wet sand caught on your arm  
someone drew a sea horse
yesterday sea spies were selling
silky shell meat
for peanuts
on empty markets

in the atriums of shells
in glassy voices of babies and mother-of-pearls
we listened to the saga about the calm sea
when the sea is like a looking-glass
when you look at your face
for another thousand years

that’s the story
of those meticulously rendered null and void
those September’s blue envelopes
in the discotheques on the outskirts of town
where your panties get lost in the pneumatic
blows of the drum hammers
while the chandeliers are spewing out
first evening sweat

when the open roadside gardens
release the red-hot asphalt
from the Styrofoam sheets
the entire sunrise
dreams of the soft debauchery
of your feet