runaway

I have squeezed out my city

for its mellow sweet waters at dawn

and bitter fluorescent juices at dusk.

I drank from ever-interrupted flows,

took in the whole load: gagged, swallowed.

I have squeezed out my city

for rivers to entrench themselves

for rivers not to feed, but to become the sea.

I liked to call its waves coincidence,

although I, the moon, had summoned the tide.

I have squeezed out my city,

over and over with my bare hands.

that means: wrung out, pressed, extracted

until the last drop died;

cried, as I myself ran dry – and away. 

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