Life has been cleft into
our life before and my life after
his death.

He said: "You drive like a bloke"
I said: "Thanks".
To boot: "Should this supposed to be
a compliment? At what point did I turn
and stayed in the 50s?

I have never actually longed for a nice wedding
(although I've seen a beautiful black-and-white striped silk skirt once that...)
I have never actually cared for starting a family
(although I've read some wonderful children's books by now that...)
And there you are then, almost 50 which is supposedly the moment to look back on life
Which is supposedly the moment you celebrate with your husband and children
Which is supposedly the moment your career is uphill and your friends admire you
for it.
None of that. Really none.
Do I miss it? No, I do.
Do I miss out on something? Yes, I don't.

I always leave the door open
the balcony my class room a fitting
room i don't know
to avoid claustration
an encirclement wherefore you feel
left out
no sounds no people no traffic no books
no songs no friends no barks no lights
I defer going to bed too.

I sip my tea
a glance at the newspaper
a glance at his hair
a glance at the river
Life is good
playing vinyl
playing grown up
with one's lover in
his large SW-house
no ties and no possessions
necessary to have it easy

the desert and the sun
the wind and the red earth
my two dogs and me
the best
Saturday and Sunday
forever and ever
don't change and
don't stay.

All in all it was not
the smartest thing to do
this expensive house
she thought while standing at the bridge
looking at it
but what to do when you're that age
and scarily in love
with a man who covers all ranges between
sweet and stone
adult life moves you
forward imperceptibly
why did she ever ignore her heart
her friends
and her father
saying remember to tell 'em you are not
steadfast but just self-willed.