I remember Amsterdam and Warsaw

London, the streets of Brasow and San Francisco

I remember that Yank from Miami

He asked me why I was reading Ginsberg


sometimes I remember camps

and those barbed wires

and escape

and running and walking

through forests, fields, roads

cities and states

and water and bread


and I remember uniforms and fucking

and how you showed me your cock

and now I tell that to him

and he undresses me gently

and asks that I write him letters