One of These Days If Not Tomorrow

Skater kids fall,
tiles from autumn houses fall,
saliva falls. White chewing gums
best turn black on the pavement tiles.
Morning dew falls, and so does sunlight and fog.
Feathers of the birds that do not migrate fall,
fathers and grandfathers on rollers as well,
rude pedestrians fall on crossings,
high heels fall on their knees.
Leaves fall on women
under the trees on top of beds.
Everything falls: the birch and the stock exchange
the harvest and trust, and confidence as well.
Soon the first snow will fall
couple of months later the last one will also fall.
Then for a while nothing will fall.
And everything goes like this, in circles, same and boring –
all over again, yet another time, from empty into hollow…
Until the first handfuls of dirt start to fall
on your coffin under the ground,
in a late, sunny autumn in Skopje,
not much different than this.