Fifty people
Fifty people. No seams and codes.
Green dots at the end of the hike.
On every platform, lum shines on the skin
And every minute they are more and more alike.
Two is less than twice. We sit by the glass.
I drink something, you endure. I understood.
It happened once, about eight years ago.
No thoughts, no plans, but I'm glad again.
And again after midnight, and again the carriage.
Calls, arrows, dots, hugs, platform ...
More kilometers, there are hours in the car.
Lum is on the skin again ... "Don't rush to sleep."
A hand reached out to stroke you.
Sorry for the desire, because it is not loving.
I gave an explanation about this ring.
You just smiled: "Well, if it's been a long time ..."
And with renewed vigor I look into the eyes.
At least an hour back and give the night.
"Okay, I'm tired, sleep until five,
And I'll sit in a tavern, let me go.
I'll be back soon, we'll be together again. "
But it's too late. Already morning, the rise in the carriage.
Minutes, moments ... "You give me the number.
I'm sorry I'm in a hurry. Well, don't be bored!
See you soon, I'll call you! "
All right, let's run. "Wait. I love ..."
© Zhenya "Antennka" (November 2006)
