Your eyes blink, and then you stare right through me.
The white powder slides through your hands with nails black painted. In the light of a parking lot a Mercedes comes nearer and nearer. I hold a gun in my hands and I don’t know how it got there. The diamond ring makes scratches on the glass. Black nails, red lips, soft touch, muted voice.
I keep your eye.
Uko Verhulst 21-6-2020