Hydrant / Sheikh

I want they were hydrants.
They're holding each another in secret.
They go under the sheets.
They tell fairy tales from the swamps


Everywhere
In silent powerlessness
They look at reflections
Grey, long days

I want they were hydrants.
They're cooking us dinners.
Maybe a small salty.
But always full of taste

They're standing by the road silent.
Sometimes they cry silently
And only a stray man
She'll look at them tenderly