Klaus was on fire today
Alex Katz would have painted him
Frank O'Hara would have watched him
Alan Ginsberg would have dreamed of him

between two lectures
"BIST DU VÖLLIG DANEBEN?!" (twice)
he was madly creating art and destroying it again
mesmerising stuff 
and my Klaus doesn't have a clue
(Father, forgive him)

I was high as a banshee 
on the glue
fingers shaking
like little forest mushrooms 
when the monsters walk through
and Klaus was on fire
darting here and there
I'd see him here
suddenly he'd be there
squirting his little pink substance 
onto the creamy goo
SLAP SLAP SLAP
with his steel spatula 
SCRATCH SCRATCH SCRATCH
into the cracks
always the angle grinder roaring
throwing dust in the air
15% asbestos 
85% bad for the lungs

all the glue making my head do somersaults

but it's nearly winter
and one degree outside
I threw the windows open
COUGH COUGH COUGH (SPIT)
took a gasp of equally horrible Stuttgart air
(only the particles are much finer)
than the clouds twisting and dancing inside

he threw some shit together
in one of the doctor's rooms
damn shit all thrown together

"THE BLOODY HEATING GUYS COULD HAVE TAKEN THEIR SHIT!"
"ALL THE SHIT!"
"SHIT SHIT SHIT!"
and he walked out
but I was watching him

he'd just unknowingly created the most beautiful art
a mangulation of broken door signs strewn  
among end-of-an-era pieces of concrete 
crashing to a wonderful broken messy moment
perfection

I was high as a kite as I walked over 
twinkle-toed and dancing on headaches
gooey eyes in a pink gooey mind
ohhh it was sickness beautiful
stood over it and clicked

some secretary's room and an exit sign
awfully kinky laying there
crushed, perverted and exposed
just like torn underwear in a Wasen bin 
expired like Katz, O'Hara & Ginsberg

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