PASSING FOR NORMAL

Under the third column at Park Guell
It is, oh i don´t know.. monday..tuesday..
i know it´s not the weekend
i know the keyboard here is really fucked up..
pepsi and cigarettes taste really bad in this country
they always do in a new country
this afternoon, i followed her with my eyes
i saw her go in and pick out some post cards with care
she came out again
picked a spot in the sun
and wrote down highlights from her trip
she wrote about her day and the day before
her little adventures and the observations and the dreams
she went over it again
under the third column
she caressed her hips
as she was reading
threw her cigarette out
picked up the card
and sealed it with a kiss
she didn´t have a stamp
she threw it in the mail box
with no stamps and no address
after all
she has nobody to write to...