I was in touch with a saint
in high, polished shoes

he let his feet carry him
with dignity, he cleared his bowels
at dawn with dignity

that's the kind of guy he was.

dead magpies fell from his shoulders
when he shrugged

he rubbed his dick against the walls
of buildings when it itched

and smelt of fresh sperm
and rosemary, like a king

that's the kind of guy he was.

the tame buildings whipped up
the parting of his hair
until he laughed

the sides of the triangles went red
when he did it to them

that's the kind of guy he was.

breakneck, insomniac
and expressive
as he hurried past me

and gave me his blessing, saying
"eat up your pizza, honey,
and die!"

Translated by Alistair Noon