ado.. something
10.02.04 5:03 p.m.

Consider this the entry

Late at night, sometimes we got drunk
On Zywiec or Perla.
I was just a child then,
Pretending to be the mature foreigner.
Some of them sang No Doubt songs
And danced around the bonfire
Others would smoke and sit talking-
Pseudo intellectualism.

*

Late at night, sometimes we crossed the street
Onto worn paths by horses and Combines alike.
Stumbling and blind, only smells,
(Of the fields of wheat, oat, and roses)
Led us to the sweet scent
Of barely pinks and almost reds were invisible
I fell asleep next to them dreaming-
This was Poland.