a poem about lying in bed together begins
in gdansk central train station. it's late,
morning really, and only now can we see
how little has changed since yesterday.
pigeons, those court shysters, racing along the ledges
like children; the red brick is black still
and crumbling as if it were coal.
train guards pleading one last time against privatisation,
for what will happen to us all. and I too
am afraid, and so go back to the pigeons, and you, and you
still missing and I feel like the cat from that poem,
seeing as I still don't know if you'll come.
an idea comes to me, both ideas.
I put my cap on, hang around a little longer

Translated by Marek Kazmierski