The Man In The Back Poem by Pierre Rausch

The following day
The following night
As inventing as they
Cash in advance
That, eventually
Was no one else
I‘m fourteen and alive
I want to go
She was the baby
I want an impulse
She was the baby
Where am I going
Not only the pneumonia
The most underhand
Well this is good tea
That belongs to you
Allowed to be used
Cash in afterwards
An excellent performance
That in truth is not
What a man could do
That strange cautiousness
You could throw a fag
Gazing about within
And could live with it
The raise of death
Discreetly transferred
You could not hear me
Raising through the trees
Called into the cellars
And a suitable car
And not these upon
It's over I'll leave
When the leaves rustle in court
In Autumn