i love you my friends in this tropical nights.
the drums run,
the prickling guitar and the girl shouts
or whispers softly,
undressing in the wooden palace,
built over hundred years.
all seeping into my heart like warm sugared alcohol.
the drums do click clack,
no one sleeps tonight,
smell of burned insects,
poor light- junkies.
shirts sticking to bodies, heated by ... what?
the drums whisper SCH, SCH,
like mummy did
to calm me down.
a snake of light guides to a hidden grove,
disruption to the harvested fields, to the thoughts of my daddy.
the drum is silent,
everybody waits anxiously,
for the first shimmering.
vicious insects fleeing from the inexorable burning sun
and the white cat asks:
what are you after, in my sweet blackest night?