What they ate isn't important

And there was no point in lingering over cognac

There was no point in cognac at all

So they skipped it and went out into the street and got a taxi

And they stuffed themselves into opposite corners of the back seat

There wasn't far to go

The cab pulled up to the curb on a street

Lit up with yellow light like a stage

With donor sellers and junkies and rats

And swarthy men in long leather coats and cheap women

Walking back and forth and forth and back

Eating greasy food out of white greasy paper

And kibitzing

Potzdamer Strasse by Nacht

As the cab pulled up to the curb

With the two dark things in opposite corners of the back seat

The two dark things looked away from each other out the side windows

And their looks went out the windows and all the way around the planet

And back in the opposite side window

So though they looked away

They still managed to lick at each other with looks

By going the long way around

Her hand lay forgotten on the back seat

Easily within reach of the fleshy fingers

The fleshy fingers could easily have picked it up

Probably they should have picked it up

But they didn't

They didn't dare

They came close

They reached out

Maybe they even brushed the surface slightly

Yes, I believe the fleshy fingers did

Brush the surface of the white hand

Slightly

The white hand lay easily within reach

But the fleshy fingers wouldn't pick it up

Or they couldn't pick it up

They didn't dare

For the sad truth was

The fleshy fingers were cowards

She got out of the cab

And passing through the crowd of swarthy

Men in long coats and cheap women

And donor sellers, junkies and rats

She passed through the crowd and disappeared into the wall

Only the cab driver saw her disappear

Because only he was watching

She disappeared like positive into negative

She disappeared into the wall

As though she'd never been there

At all

She disappeared like positive into negative

As though she'd never been there

At all