From Songs For the Dead Rooster

We made such an excellent couple
that we would have been perfect for a TV commercial.
For example:

He is sitting at the bar counter.
She is a few stools away.
She starts looking through her purse.
He offers in an outstretched hand
an open pack of cigarettes.
At the very same moment She finally finds her own
inside the purse.
He laughs.
She smiles.

Next frame:
two packs of camels on the bar counter
one by the other.
An ashtray, butts, smoke.

Then again:
He and She leave the bar together.
Naturally, for the bright future.

An inscription:
CAMEL CIGARETTES
AN EXCELLENT REASON TO GET ACQUAINTED!

A few trifles remained:
choosing the background music,
arranging for interior decoration and the extras,
deciding about the future.

First came a few
really good letters.
Then one of them answered with a delay.
Then this became the norm, then replying
became a duty.
Life put back into place all that it wanted.
Now all that remains are thoughts:
was there anything there to begin with besides the smoke?

But what the hell for, you monster you,
did you squish your yellow butts in the ashtray
with such desperation as if you were a camel herder
accidentally admitted into decent company? . . .

From Songs For the Dead Rooster

We made such an excellent couple
that we would have been perfect for a TV commercial.
For example:

He is sitting at the bar counter.
She is a few stools away.
She starts looking through her purse.
He offers in an outstretched hand
an open pack of cigarettes.
At the very same moment She finally finds her own
inside the purse.
He laughs.
She smiles.

Next frame:
two packs of camels on the bar counter
one by the other.
An ashtray, butts, smoke.

Then again:
He and She leave the bar together.
Naturally, for the bright future.

An inscription:
CAMEL CIGARETTES
AN EXCELLENT REASON TO GET ACQUAINTED!

A few trifles remained:
choosing the background music,
arranging for interior decoration and the extras,
deciding about the future.

First came a few
really good letters.
Then one of them answered with a delay.
Then this became the norm, then replying
became a duty.
Life put back into place all that it wanted.
Now all that remains are thoughts:
was there anything there to begin with besides the smoke?

But what the hell for, you monster you,
did you squish your yellow butts in the ashtray
with such desperation as if you were a camel herder
accidentally admitted into decent company? . . .