Watching him make love to his cigarette turned her on.

Dozens stood in line
Wearing tattered clothes
Waiting for a movie
They’d seen too many times

Here on the thirty first floor

We can see the rain of missiles

Flowers of orange and black

Blossoming in the suburbs

Final orders are given

It is difficult to tell

When the Seraphim have finished

Plucking quills from their wings

Again again again

With their inky tears

Long time now since I last

Wound the chronometer and

Pitched the sextant overboard

Smashed the compass so that

I could lose myself in you