Alexa informs you on the weather.
In late August - 
boring radicals 
clumsy surgeons
streets not cooling off just yet
club-goers in awe of nature at dawn and still littering.
light and dark shades on buildings constructed last year and ready to fall
ladies running in heels outgoing taxis and 
firemen dreading the pole to the ground floor.
extroverts in narrow alleys
lobbyists with no interests at a party, petting a cat in turns.
leaving numbers on napkins 
give us back the hours, 
which is to say: things can last 
“You’re a fine woman, you know”, 
in a hectic market on a flat weekend. 
In late January - 
Old women accumulate beauty. 
Young women carry it like a set of keys 
to a house they don’t own yet. 
“Where were my parents having a coke in the summer of 1989?”
I ask myself why I wrote that on a receipt.
Writing takes up space. Winter makes space seem larger than it is.
Why do you think there is music in churches?
It mitigates their height. 
I sing a hymn, it hits the walls. The church 
becomes a little smaller.
that is to say: The layman is afraid of the divine. 
The Uber driver, Mateus, was talking about winter: 
“Short days give the sensation that 
your life is going”. Summer returns
and you could pray outside of a church.
'Today, you can expect a shit ton of sun".