Thirst

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Like a glass of cold water
Standing on a table
with dotted tablecloth
in the shadow
surrounded by a
hot and humid
summer afternoon.
Like a drop of haze
born slowly on that
glass
slipping down
and reaches the
colorful dots on
the textile
and vanishes again.
Our thirst slips
into sleep
like this.
Where else could it go?

MEGOSZTÁS

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