And walk
down Karl Johansgate
near
the University
and
hear the street musician's sad song
of a
lost love
and
where street peddlars sell
even indian incense
and fotographs you and i cannot interpret.
and sit
in the park nearby
and
find that there exist here too
people
who scavage dustbins
and
carry clothes in carrybags.
And walk
down Karl Johansgate
in the sombrity of sunfall
and
lose yourself
in the
heart of
18.vi.78
