heya cometh everyboddeeee! right out of the sleigh:
purring like honey from a see-through plastic bag!
& the dread, the dead night-cruise drops its beats
& sings 'la la la la la la laaaaaaa' like a lidl lamb!
hey did i dream all of that? or are we all still here,
shouting 'ship to shore' from the top of the stuga?
life is a fritidshus that belongs to someone else -
but iiiii'm still standing here, in the soupy dimma
& that's my dilemma: stay sane, or else go barking
up the trunks of unfamiliar trees; well, i think i know
which way you'll lean, & so i'll engrave our names
on the nearest manhole cover & call it kul, or jul:
coz blekinge's wastes hold yesterday's rain & crawl
like bereaved remainders