The End

And from now on I won’t be there in any group picture
(proud proof of my death in the world’s book reviews)
when someone says look see—that’s Zbyszek—pointing
to a man struggling with a suitcase—it isn’t me no it’s
someone who’s not even in the same business as I am
I’m not there I’m not there period a complete emptiness
even if I concentrated my will in a single burning point
I would not be able even for one moment and in a flash
of magnesium to come into existence so I’m not there
schluss
airbrushed by a tyrant as if I turned out to be an enemy
of the revolution whereas I once stood safely in the sun
of the leader