Today-

the flow is stronger than my strength

I feel like an old man

in a hospital bed -

except I walk,

except I stand,

except I meet my own eyes

in the mirror,

lifting a tiny espresso

at Espresso House

on Norrlandsgatan;

an alien -

in a world running

at speeds

I can't -

won't -

follow

Everyone on the street,

everyone at the crossing -

so fast,

so chill

All in on something

I just don't get

I'm late to the party

and fragmented

So many creatures in Stockholm!

Most of them built like me -

bones wrapped in meat,

upright on two legs,

or riding strange machines,

or wobbling on two wheels

Everything -

lightning quick

It won't fit in my eyes,

it spills over the sidewalks,

across the crossings,

down into tunnels,

into the underground,

up elevators -

no trouble in sight

This day

is building

a wild confusion

At a corner of Kungsträdgården

(where I've just been skulking,

looking for a place to piss

that never appeared) -

blue light floods the scene

Police cars

Police officers

Out in the open

From a distance

I see the King & Queen

round the bend

in horse-drawn carriages,

vanishing along Kungsträdgården,

part of an Icelandic state visit,

followed by a pack

of mounted cops

I step into Bågar & Glas,

Norrlandsgatan 7,

right at ten -

icy winds slashing through the street

My eyes – lit

My wallet – gutted

I order a pair of seriously badass

Kuboraum frames,

custom lenses

for my mild strabismus,

delivery in about three weeks

I want to look like a poet -

for fuck's sake!

On my way back to the train

i catechize the buildings -

standing tall in a sea of air,

roofs pulled down

over windows in the wind,

feathered white-winged ones shrieking

in the cold sun

I make a detour

into Kulturhuset,

finger the kalimbas,

tap a mini handpan

ever so lightly -

exchange a few kind words

with an older American woman

in post-hippie garb

I give her

a couple of simple

kalimba tips