LEMON SMELL

The smell of lemon stays in my hands

While I blow you a kiss

Next to the tea cups

At the Labi Haus

Immersed in thoughts

You’ve not been noticed

As I am going for a lonely stroll

Everlasting memories

Down the streets show me

How sensitive this city is for me

Like fresh, grated lemon

It doesn’t matter if you move around

Uzbekistan

Afghanistan

Any land where you can run to

It does matter the way you recognize

The signs

How agile a collector

You can be

Passing by bloody-minded carpet sellers

Patient with your empty pockets

And delighted eyes

Two slits that need to see more

Lemon smell is still my company

On the way back

To the Labi Haus

You stare me in the face still

The tea-cozy is open

Your ears are open

And I begin to tell you everything