Her words like pebbles

she throws at me

standing in judgement

about my infidelity

she’s still sore about

for seventeen years.

Like Ana used to muse

being seventeen years

married to her hubby

art restorer and boatman.

My own spouse didn’t even

say hello

as I bade her good-bye

in stubborn dedication

of having missed out

on life

in profession and love

why blaming it on hubby?

Frustration could be

chased off by a smile.

Anger takes one never

forward

leads to self-mutilation.

The friendly woman from

Split signals me for the

bus’s arrival

I didn’t see staying behind

covers

for a cloudburst to clear.

Good-bye Vienna for

three days.

Wish though we were

travelling to the sea.

The Med Sea.

Ahoi.

 

Zoltanzelan

©ZJG-POetry’17.