Čekajući povlačim liniju,
crtam horizont.
Utišane vetrom, vesti
bezbrižno u šetnji, pričaju o tebi.
Sećam se prve stranice,
Čudovišta ispod kreveta,
Mraka sa tavanice.
Lokve, ogledala na cesti
nisu ništa više nego
rasute krhotine zbilje.
Nemirni protestanti srušiće nam grad!?
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Odlično! Svaki stih bogat asocijacijama, nema praznog hoda ... nadam se da će se skupiti dovoljno publike koja razumije Srpski, Hrvatski, Srpsko - Hrvatski il obratno ... ovo je definitivno vrijedno pažnje. Lajkat ću kasnije kad mi se napuni rezervoar za lajkanje, da ispadne od toga makar jedan cent.