Panic in the streets of Jerusalem as you pull the thin white sheet over your frame and walk to the balcony.  
"They are rioting in the streets again."
I lean back and light the other half of the cigarette I left in the ashtray when you came into the room, dripping from you hair, sweet waters of your skin that stick to the sheets
The white sheet that sticks to your frame,
The white sheet that outlines your ass like the winged victory,
The white sheet with three spots of coffee on the left hand corner,
Not because it was spilt but it was the product of your boredom
You liked to lick your fingers after dipping them in my favorite mug,
The one I sipped from as I admired at the window
Cool breeze of night and inhale - exhale
"Come here before you miss this!"
The violence excites you and I walk towards your green eyes.

Below the scene is bloody.
A man with a rock
A man with a gun
A rock is thrown and a trigger pulled
So many more rocks than guns.

They run towards the barricades and scream in ecstasy!
It is the violent parade of revolution.