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.