Not a Democrat

Is democracy good for individual freedom
a year when spring sprang early
he bought horse and cart and made a living 
moving people's ******* to the town's pit 
He was not a man working from 9 to 5 in 
a factory where underpaid workers slaved 
putting macaroni in tomato sauce, into a tin
he had many children, but was not a pater
Familia, the children grew up with varied
success, some failed while others thrived 
Besides, he liked gardening, in the poor 
A section of the town people came to see his
display the beautiful flowers
In the night, people came picked the bloom
to give color to their meagre homes, that 
It was what he had wanted 
He lived a long life, and his wife loved him dearly
No, he was not a democrat

The fidelity 

the sin of the flesh, why is it a sin
sexuality is a strong and natural desire
but often the downfall of the great
who lacks respect for lust
treats it with a low moral attitude
There are the monks of Thailand
naked feet in sandals, and one assumes
naked bodies under burgundy
robes, can so easily fall prey to when
a lady of easy virtues comes along
this could and probably has gone on
for hundreds of years, but it became
a scandal when money came along 
I understand the monks, but reserve
my contempt for the likes of Trump and
Dershowits

The Awakening

My first wife's house was very small
her bed was narrow to
after ***, she told me to sleep in the bathtub
In the night, I got up, opened the window
The sea-washed moon came in
I have seen that moon many times before
from many portholes 
I was always enchanted by the pool
of stillness
I walked out of the sleeping house, by
the steps, my dog, I patted her head
but she refused to come with  me on my walk
By a lamppost under  a circle  of light
I waited for a bus that would never arrive

A new future

To wake up in the night and sense the awe of life is
light from street lights tells of other sides, as does
a car driving by at two in the morning 

Living forever is a punishment, but some people 
write a self-biography in the hope that when they
Die, they will be remembered 

To be blessed in the night, feeling the soul has
been free of the body and become everything 
that has a meaning

No, there is no flying away; the pain of life is
What makes one whole, to understand others
to give our earnest gifts 

We have absorbed into our hearts that there
It is a beautiful future, a rebirth, if not conscious 
That will bring harmony

The most important

Fine drizzle over the bay, falling slowly and hesitantly
as preparing for a proper deluge  
Who knows, perhaps it will not happen, and the sun
will shine even if it is a day older
Dry slippery cobblestone pavements for the aged
Since it is Saturday, the ships' tugs are at their anchorage.
as they want to be nearer the shore
One vessel has run out of meat and potatoes, a stable
Diet,  the chief steward, had bought a lot of cakes 
because he was depressed at the time and needed
cheering up
To mollify the crew, he told of a famous woman who
said when the people were hungry, "let them eat cakes."
The crew didn't think that was funny and threatened
to throw him overboard
From the shore came a motorboat  loaded with pears
oranges and cabbage, but no potatoes and no meat
The chief steward was trying to swim ashore

monday morning

woke up at eight, it was a splendid morning
cool before the day becomes serious and
demanding attention 
belonging to the 1% of people born before
the second world war, I'm often awake 
in the night before falling asleep again 
my first thought was not profound, but
about coffee, I had to drink it black since 
I had forgotten to buy milk
switched on the computer, reading the news
scanned an article about the lack of sleep that
only spoke to the middle classes
to those who sit in nice offices filling in
forms and are unspecified planners of
something they think is  important
not about building workers, or about those
who begin their day at six, shift workers
were overlooked, ditto the army of cleaners 
a psychologist from Leeds had a word in 
he had nothing relevant to say other than
he had a doctoral degree in sleep
not to be undone, an article about X that
was tendentious with no understanding
how important is it for our future
Dismayed, I went back to bed thinking
how idiotic the world is, full on self
important people and their tiny world

the date

it was late when my date entered
the kitchen closed, but the waiter served
We had gateau with white wine, but he refused
to give me red wine as it doesn't go
well with cakes

she drank a whole bottle and got giggly
at an outdoor kiosk, I bought two
hot dogs, one with mustard, the other
with ketchup, I ate both; she was in
the back throwing up.

I was not in a good mood when she
refused to come to my flat, the rain
didn't help
I walked her to the bus stop, and she
caught the last bus back to her parents

at the pharmacy

ome books in my bookshelf are unread 
and can stay the way, I need not read 
everything printed

depression hangs over the landscape like
dust on windows tells me the obvious
come clean me now

When finally going ashore, I had floated
like an ant on an oak leaf, I was baffled
electricity bills have to be paid

the pharmacy is open, but I will wait a bit
it is full of middle-aged women talking
about their illnesses 

there had been a storm, *** plants 
had fallen to the floor, the weather
is getting worse every year

the apothecary is empty. I walk in
to get medicine for diabetes, but
I no longer ask why me

Nagasaki

There are nights when things become clear 
when the Pacific Ocean lived up to its name 
I sat on deck, listened to the heartbeat of
the vessel, which ticked faster when an engineer 
opened a door and came out on the deck
Laughter in the mess hall, no, I was not at ease
in their company, too old at sixty
I have tried the swagger, the misogyny, where 
Women were either ****** or mothers
The ship was bound for Nagasaki, and I had
been here before when looking for a graveyard 
where Portuguese sailors had died when
Japan was an unknown land
When walking down the gangway,  didn't 
to say goodbye, it was dinner time anyway
before flying back to Europe

The mule in  Gaza

Slowly, on delicate legs, the last mule
in Gaza, pulling a cart carrying old 
mattresses, broken chairs, and small
shrouds of children to a resting place
Pulling a kart is as easy as there is no 
elevations in Gaza, nor is there 
a succulent green field where to feed
Who feeds the mule? It can't live on 
spent shells alone, who gives it water
to drink, can it be Hamas, who see in
the mule: the long dream of freedom
We all have dreams, the mule's easy
a green field of luscious green grass.

The First Paradise

We humans are related to the dolphins 
not so smooth, that's why we stayed  near
sea was shallow
Fruit trees grew near the shoreline and 
often apples fell into the sea, which was
as a blessing, and we walked ashore
On dry land, we become aware of our nakedness
and hastily covered our bodies in palm leaves
Flirting and lifting palm leaves became a sport 
disapproved of by the adults
In the apple trees lived snakes; if a woman was
bitten, she convulsed, and if not given 
satisfaction becomes what we know as Karen 
When children asked where we came from
adults told us we came from Mars
Now, scientists tell us they have found dry
river beds on Mars. I say no more

The Valley of the Forbidden

Sat under an oak in the valley of the naked woman
admiring her rounded *******, a malevolent oak
took offence, not that I minded, after all, it had been
at the same spot for a hundred years, long before the valley had a name.
Suddenly, the tree slapped me
a leathery branch
Oh, pain makes me strong
I forgave the oak and
thought of the pope who, every Thursday evening 
flagellated himself, in remembrance
of the day
When he was training for the priesthood, he nearly lost 
His manhood to the cleaning lady
The Valley of the Naked Woman has a hidden fountain
is guarded by thorny thistles and impotent apple trees 
Those who have drunk her loveliness will never be
sane again, loll in the sunlight of lost ambition
The wicked eye of the oak kept glaring when I hugged 
An olive tree, the oak knew I was a lover of the ethical.

Angry Conifers

Trees in the avenue
have a weird sense
of humor
Long roots cracking up
finely laid cobble stone
pavement
Slightly bent easterly
give pain in the lower
trunk
The younger trees
bleat about older trees
taking space
Older trees show
distain of needy trees
no dignity
Trees are silent
lack imparting skills
shake leaves

Black Chador

The women of Alexandria wear a chador that
mercifully hides her bony body, she could have
fitted a Dior dress snugly, but she doesn't
know this, she has walked ten miles to buy
bread for her children
She has been to the fruit market too, where
where rib-cage mules with sores stoically wait
A rich, elderly English woman tells the mule
As the owner of it, she has never felt the pang of hunger
Nevertheless, she puts bandages on a mule's
open sores
The woman in the black chador is oblivious of this
Empathy for suffering animals is
a concern of
the wealthy, those who have time to care

Walking to Rome

On my way to Rome, I walked with a group
of Jews who had left Israel because it had
become a racist state
The Jews were a group of young men and
women on their way to Rome to seek an 
audience with the Papa to ask him to take
a stance against the **** of brutality 
against the Palestinians
Their goal was the creation of a Palestine
They, as Jews, could be a part of a new future
I listened to their ideology, and they were 
Young enough believed in the shared dream
I knew that, should they see the P, he would
be nice to them and speak in a measured 
voice, because the Papacy was a political 
too, and nothing must upset the balance 
I don't know if they got an audience with the pope
But I learned something vital, I had tended 
to speak about the Jews in a negative form
and didn't see the difference between Zionism and Jews
As for me, I met a wonderful woman at Travessa
de Santa Maria and had a splendid time

Endurance 

For we are the blessed 1% surviving
The long night in a nameless town
and meeting two well-dressed Arabs
gentlemen suited in the style of 
ninety thirty-two and floral hats 

With fortitude, we face this modern
A time when lies are deep in sagacity
where the whims of the stupid are
the politics of the day, drink coffee
knowing we are the eternal.

Latakia, Syria

My ship berthed there when Bashar al-Assad, the vile 
When a dictator was in power, I found a peaceful  town
Dressed in a European manner, there were many shops
selling all sorts of wares, and the police wore sidearms 
not machineguns 
Latakia had an atmosphere of peace
Then suddenly, rumor had it that Bashar had jailed thousands
Many people were tortured and killed
The USA turned against him, mainly 
because of a Russian base nearby, proof that Assad was
on the wrong side of a conflict that appeared to
be based on lies
In the end, Bashar al-Assad fled to Russia, and Syria was free
One wonders what happened to the thousands of
tortured prisoners, said to be freed

Man and his dog

He awoke under the bed, and it had been his birthday
drinking champagne, eating Danish pastry, and smoking Havana cigars
He walked into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and took out
a beer, which he thirstily drank while wondering why
Everything was so quiet
The maid had been in when he slept, and everything was in order
When did the guests leave, or had he partied with his teddy bear
Being lonely since his dog died
Looking out of the window, he saw many cars, and they had
No drivers and some had open doors as if abandoned in haste,
But what had happened?
In a bakery/café, he had a sandwich of cheese and tomatoes,
He made it himself since the lady who owned it
The café was not there.
It dawned on him that he was alone in the world, everything
He didn't need to share his good fortune with anyone,
Except for the cur outside that ran away and barked when seeing him
He tried the Rolls-Royce that belonged to the mayor
Yes, the ride was smooth, distracted by thoughts, he hit a lamp-post,
But never mind, there were other cars around
At an expensive restaurant where he once had dined,
He made and made himself a hamburger with hot fries
drunk on the most expensive red wine possible.
The dog that had growled at him looked at him through the window,
wagging tail, it knew he was the only one left to feed it
Months went by, and the window, his life, was getting a bit onerous,
just him and the dog following him around, getting fat from his overfeeding.
He stopped shaving, showering, and wearing the same pants
Since the day was endless anyway, why bother with personal hygiene
When there was no pressure to conform
Deeply depressed, he jumped from the top floor of
a tall building to end it all.
No such luck! He descended, slowly broke down, and cried freely
as the dog was the only witness to his sadness
Doomed to live forever, he lay down under the bed
But before falling into Nirvana's arms, he got up again
Someone had to feed the dog.

In the name of peace

I will put you against a wall, shoot you blue
green and yellow with my paint until you
a white flag of surrender
I will paint blood dripping red paint on your
for hire a plane, the one that dropped a bomb
In a café in Gaza
We know where the plane's pilot lives.
If that doesn't stop you, I will obliterate you
My arsenal of drones that shot a man off
His wheelchair, pulverize your house with all
It's chattel, if that fails too, I will use nuclear
Our bombs are for peace, but yours
are for evil
Do as we tell you, or we will **** you in the
In the name of peace

The Wardrobe

I opened the wardrobe door
There they hang, suits and trousers
worn so long, looking pale
copies of my figure
This can't go on, in a fit of self-anger
I gave my old clothes to the Salvation Army
Too much textile is a burden  
In a suitable shop, I bought a pair of jeans
and a matching jacket
Feeling adventurous, I walked out looking
For a mule, horses are too tall, began
Exploring the landscape of dreams

the accident

When crossing the street, cars had stopped 
to let him cross in respect for his age
He was thinking of death; he hoped it would be
sudden, no sentimental last farewell,
no lies
about seeing you on the other side
Should there be another side, he wouldn't
He liked to meet people he had met in life side
A piece of a Russian satellite that has fallen to the ground
days, hit him with utmost precision
And he watched as the ambulance people 
scrapped him off the street, the witnesses 
We were in awe, thinking it could have been 
We have to be nicer to our nearest
Now he was a soul drifting about, trying to
Find an opening back to life
At the hospital nearby, a woman struggled
to give birth, she was 38 years old, and
Therefore considered elderly for giving birth
The soul saw its chance to become a soul
for the unborn, well aware he would not be
able to know about his former life
Great jubilation, he didn't share as he was too young to know

True animal story

One-legged seagull
sat on the roof near the chimney
it was a male gull, its feather
worn like he had been
in a battle and needed a rest
when my dog  noticed the bird,
she barked the gull
shrieked, hate at first sight,
but for a truce
When the dog ignored
its presence and
the bird stopped  teasing her
the kitchen had a flat roof
in the morning, the bird had flown
the dog picked at her food
on Sunday, she listened to the sermon  
when the dog heard the priest say
something about angels
the dog knowingly wagged her tail

Time's little sister

She is so very young time has been around
for eons, his beginning forgotten
in the haze of no time
Yet, she was there to remember when time was kind
when roses grew, when people fell in love
Children's happy voices, the birth of nations and the end
of horrid regimes
Time is a brute, takes no interest in what is good or bad
carries without reason or regards
but his little sister is there to help people to remember
the world is full of wonders

The actor I knew

Mikael Elphick, a talented actor
I admired
he liked to read my poems and said they were like stories
and therefore, easy to read
He understood I was trying to find a space between
poetry and prose, that is why I dislike calling
what I write poetry, vignettes seem in order
Mikael was a kind man who liked that I was not
hanger faking friendship and being agreeable to his
political opinions, which I found eccentric
The last time I spoke to him was outside a café, he
was struggling to walk home, I gave him a lift
a reporter from the Sun newspaper sat in a tree
it might have been Pierce Morgan, as we know
has bullied his way on X
a few weeks later, Mickael was dead, killed by
his alcoholism

Horn Music

In the late forties and middle fifties
horn music and military marches tunes
were often parlayed in the town's park
and we lived nearby and bore the brunt
of this noisy music
to complain was not easy as the music
was seen as an expression of freedom
chasing the German army out of our
cherished country, admittingly with
the help of the Russian army, the
British took the credit
Horn music is simply horrible to enjoy
the noise one has to be unmusical
one would think the noise had stopped
with the arrival of modernity, rock and roll
and Elvis Priestly, but no
I was invited in the eighties to read a poem
in Oslo. When my turn came to read
the horn orchestra struck up.

jan oskar hansen. Cyberwit.net

The conference 

I had gone to a writer's conference
The room was full of authors only interested
in reading and pushing their book
I had brought a book called Hunger, written
by Knut Hamsun, the pages were loose and
kept falling off, but there was a picture 
of him a stern man-looking intellectual  
The leader of the meeting, a man who was 
proud he had not gone to college and said
he knew more than anybody else
did want to read Hamsun's book, because 
Knut had gone to university in Oslo
Since the room was full of writers pushing
their work and didn't want to be influenced 
by other voices, I left
In the parking lot, all the cars were white, my
car was a Russian jeep called Lada, but
I couldn't find it, so took my leave of the scene

A film star
It was not her creamy body that caught
My attention, nothing unusual about it
Curvaceous, yes but going soft, it was
Here eyes, in a blink they were blue, green
Or brown, depending on her mood that
Changed faster than traffic lights on
Sunset Boulevard
Between laughter, pain and suspicion
I could see her soul and wide-open eyes
They killed her slowly the famous men
Wouldn’t let her grow up a dumb blond
Forever
I could have made her happy, but when
I found the courage to ring her doorbell
Marilyn wasn’t around anymore.


Zen
Love is
A gold coin
That never rust

Now that we are totally automatized
can hail a driverless taxi that stops if someone lit a ***
A time when thousands of driver-less cars are stuck
in traffic on the motor way in the morning
That is when all automatized breaks down caused by
designer flaw or sabotage from cars itself
that are able to think and will not serve mankind
or decide on paid holidays in Southern France
When Elon Musk, refuses to return from Mars
the cry is, where can you find a donkey when
you need one?

**** time

Uniformed men with ice blue eyes, marched
Up and down the street, bomb fell, earth shock
And I was two years old
An officer with steel rimmed glasses and a cruel
Smile, said: this child is blond and has blue eyes
I clicked my heel, ****** my thumb
Mother, took to singing sentimental lieders
They gave her an iron cross, while dreamed
The kindergarten’s infant Fuhrer
To my regret, peace broke out and life was
Lull again, till I was circumcised and went
To live in Haifa, where I could *** over a new
Wall, which made me a natural leader of men.

Black is beautiful 

When I tore lose from the mountain
and fell into the river. I was a rough
stone, offended other stones as I lacked
manners and appeared gruff 
Now, however, I'm smooth, oblong and
black, feels no shame stating I'm masculine
different from the shed gray other stones
I share the riverbed with 
spring is when ice melts on the mountain
and I'm pushed along until I am an attractive
black stone on a creamy white beach
I'm worried about being stuck where
the river is shallow; a boy might find me
picks me up and put me on the widow sill 
in his room and forget me until his mum
throws me out with rusty nails, toys, and batteries
I will never feel the sea washing over me
and look hansom on a golden beach

The Cobwebs of Dreams

It was a sunny day, perhaps to clear
I thought
Mother sat in the kitchen sunlight, making her white hair into a halo
I asked how old she was, 92 she said, I knew
trapped in a dream, she didn't live that long
By the slow river, I saw furniture drifting 
My brother said that people who lived downstream
went upstream to buy furniture, to save on transport
cost, they dumped furniture into the river, where
relatives  downstream picked it up
sometimes, they lost a table or a commode, but that
was a risk one had to take
I knew this was a dream
Walking on a soft road in the forest, but something
wrong, a strange red light from the trees. I was
trapped inside a painting by a mad Russian artist
Luckily, I had a flick knife
Then it was morning, I'm not sure, the line between reality and the subconscious merge perhaps, yesterday is today.

demise of my horses

I had been away for a few days
visiting an aunt in Cascais
on returning home
my three stone horses are gone
a cheerless hole where they 
had been tethered
Widening the  road, they said
for this beauty must go
the enlarged road can carry
more and more cars
until the enlarged road is
too small, they decide to
build a motorway 
with toll booth
The other side of this new
the road will be impossible 
to cross on foot
Neighbors often visited
becomes strangers 
Sun or rain, spectacular
my horses were
before turning into grit

Changing world?

In Peru, they import potatoes
In Guatemala, they plant thousands of trees
drink cacao, sit in groups, and sing
think they are new agers 
the new war in The Middle East began 
because Israel saw the need to attack
Iran, this to defend itself
Netanyahu is in uproar with the Iranians
has bombed a hospital
A Jewish lady tells me about the killings in Gaza
is done by Hamas, and it has nothing
to do with IDF!
Iran is in chaos, totally ruined, and ready
to surrender to regime change 
but the lack of potatoes in Peru worries
me the most

The Cloud of Hell
It was a perfect day, cobalt sky and azure, glittering sea
When a stygian cloud came from the east, the Lord of Wars
spat phlegm, spraying us with horror

Inside this monstrosity, body parts, headless, were
Flying by the noise was unearthly, and my little dog
sheltered under my coat, I bought in Hamburg.

When the cloud had passed, I saw a landscape
Devastated as Ypres in the Great War when then
as now millions of people have died for nothing.

My dog was limp and had stopped breathing. I blew
Life back into it and in the terrible noise of the sky
We heard nothing, not even the stillness.

The master of wars was visiting us the peace
We had enjoyed it for too long; it was time for
Bloodletting, the revenge of the sand dwellers

Home town
Yesterday I saw him play billiards, a famous man
There are not many celebrities in my hometown
We have not many things to be proud safe for
A duck pond in the center, geese and rats in
The basement of the café
The famous one was once a boxer in the USA
But never made it to the top, but came back
In my hometown, his fame was assured; he had
Floored Sonny Liston in the third round, but
Liston won the match
A friendly man who hides his sadness, of not
Being famous in America
In the years to come he will be pointed out
“See the man over there, a lovely mover, once
He floored Sonny Liston.”

A Yellow silk scarf
He bought a yellow silk scarf at a second-hand shop
In Cheshire, the type actors were, when meeting for
A drinks party; the mirror told me he wore the scarf
With seedy elegance, which normally comes to those
Who has no self-awareness, better still, ignores what
Other people think.
In Ashdod, someone broke into his cabin, the thief
Stole his Ronson lighter, he could overlook that
But his yellow silk scarf went unforgiven forever

After the concert

Now, in the afternoon of my life
My thoughts are about love and romance
These pesky things are disturbing
My tough exterior makes me soft and weepy
When no one looked is now in front and
Naked I appear; yes, you old fool
Words of love and music for the heart
Make me cry and loosen the knot of old
Resentment tells me nothing matters
Except loving someone and not being afraid
Love is the freedom that gladdens the
Tired heart and cleanses the dust that fell
On wisdom and truth

to a vegan be

We humans can be good for wild animals
Their life of surviving hides hearts of love
by showing empathy and understanding
They can change and show utter devotion
to a human who loves them back
and lessen the struggle for survival,
to be on their guard where there is aggression
is the only emotion allowed
When an animal feels that way, its love
is timeless, you are a liberator
A question remains: how can a man eat
burgers when knowing a cow was killed
to sate our appetite for meat.

Winter of Discontent

Cloudiness has settled in the sky
An act of unpalatable truth of the kind
A summer sun easily hides
Old dwellings are full of cracks
Sagging roofs and dust on the window sill
***-holed roads, dry as clay, lead from
From doom to the gloom of routines
Nothing changes, life is an endless struggle
Spring is far away
Then, a miracle happens, splitting clouds
I saw the sun, as the flowers in the garden
had seen
warming my face, letting the illusion continue

Gaza
The baby
Wrapped in a blanket
Looks at the camera
Emaciated face
Large eyes
Incomprehensively
Looks at me
I lower my gaze
Who is going to
Switch off
The killing machine
This harvester of
Of death
Not yet, not yet

Alfred and the wilderness

Alfred, who with the greatest of ease tells, he is not my father
and I went for a walk across a chlorophyll-filled field.
Alfred, who is a musician and never ventures out in the landscape
saw some grazing sheep and wondered if they were dangerous,
No, I said they are sheep and born friendly
as God created them, to this, Alfred called me a crypto-Christian.
A little Lamb came up to my father, it was so sweet,
as only a lamb can be, he lifted it up, which the ewe disliked,
and it butted him in the rear.
Alfred was shocked, got up, and demanded that I bring him to safety
in the nearest town; never trust animals, they are all out
to get us, he said while limping to safer ground.

The Genetic pool

I’m my father’s son, I carry his genes
He is a part of me that is inseparable
If I hate him, I dislike myself
These days, I’m older than my father
He is my son, and I love my son
Once I saw my father on the bus
He reached out to say hello
Misinformed, I ignored his gesture
Looked out of the bus window
I saw his tears
Wish the moment would return
It is my eternal shame
My father is my son, I think of him
Gently.

The last poem in my new collection

Swindlers
I had been scammed, a woman on Facebook
Asked me for friendship
Told me of a website that could help
Tried, a picture of a well-suited man looking suave
Asked me for 500 euros, before I asked
What he could do for me
Why should I give you 500 euros?
It is my charge to help you recoup your loss
What loss?
I just know, he said
Is it no longer possible to trust any firm operating
On the internet
This demand for money before proving anything
Hoping for the best is not a solution

Here is the war

The war has broken out, possibly caused
When the USA embassy was invaded 40 years ago  
The humiliation is a festering sore that cries for revenge
Every country will suffer in the shadow
There will be hunger
There will be deaths
Israel, in a suicidal mood, has been at the forefront of
This war that might destroy Israel as a nation
Who are those fanatical people who wish death upon
Millions for revenge
For the glory to reign over a destroyed world, that
is advantageous for ravens looking for diamonds
In the debris of a ruined culture

Reflection

It is autumnal, and the wind blows
Light from lampposts sways
The day smells of oncoming winter
Sadness and a longing for the past
It will always be like this
The hankering for years gone by
Like the wake from a ship
The birds in the sky will leave to
The curtain billows, ready to set sail
Across the seas, towards infinity
And beyond

Serenity

At the corner shop
They have sold out happiness
On sticks
They sell fresh bread
Also, plastic toys
The greengrocer next door
Sell carrots, cabbage, and leeks
But no heart-shaped tomatoes
Further down the road
A shop sells exotic cheeses
However, none of them sell Joy

The Cake Shop
There was a small cake shop near the bath-house
If I had money, I would go in there for a coffee and a cake
the girl behind the counter smiled; I fell under her spell
and my heart beating too fast made me dizzy
Her name was Berta, the loveliest thing on earth
I must invite her out for a walk in the park.
She closed her shop at five, borrowed my brother's tie, and used his aftershave. Alas, outside the shop stood
a man tall and handsome
I walked by and into a deep shadow.
When she came out, they kissed and walked hand in hand
down the road, she said something, and he laughed.
Devastated, I sank to the ground and bitterly cried
how stupid, the burning shame, I couldn't go into her shop again,  told him about me when she laughed
I found another place where an old lady of thirty served
I felt at ease with her; we laughed and often kissed
But life is not sweet chocolate, as I had to work with no education
I joined the merchant navy, a place for poor boys who didn't want to work in factories and left dreams behind. Or did I?

The Jewish couple

I have written about this before, but somehow
didn't  get it right 
My perceived brusqueness made them think of Cracow,
they had fled, their relatives lost in the turbulence
of a war where they, as civilians, 
but Jews had their life made into nightmares. 
There was a small sweet shop near my café, 
selling my chocolate with nuts, so 
one day, I walked in there to buy a bar of chocolate
The man behind the counter bent down and changed his hat.
His wife reached out and tried to give me a sweet. 
The man wore a Panama hat 
I spoke English to them, which eased the situation, 
this tall ****-looking person was not a ghost from the past, 
just a person with a sweet tooth. 
I bought the chocolate, and we shook hands, told them I was in business to
had a café near them,
The sweet shop had visitors,
and the chocolate I bought had been in the shop too long; it was green. 
But when I left the shop, I felt they didn't want me to come back, 
I reminded them too much of the horror of Cracow.

When nothing makes sense

Let's go to Doctor Lunda, she said 
I found a place near the bus terminal that had no buses
A policeman came and said we could not park there
and rules are rules, but he offered to drive to Dr. Lunde
in my car, on the way, he got the gears wrong, and we ended up in a shallow lake
I called a truck, and the policeman said that the owner of
the car
I was responsible;  rules are rules; the truck pulled out
Dr. Lunde turned out to be a chiropractor, the policeman
said I had to pay because I was the owner of the car
where he got a bad back
Later, we drove to a furniture dealer and had a cheap 
Swedish furniture we had to put together ourselves
but the glue was free of charge
I am not a handyman
A lady came into the shop and said I had to clean
my car since everyone around here is posh
When I had cleaned the car, we walked to a café
that sold Swedish meatballs with mashed potato 
but on that day, they had no mash left; meatballs
and mash go together, the woman would not let
us buy anything, the policeman said rules are rules