SATURDAY

I wake for a second –

Out of a dream

dogs fornicating –

A young chap has

just screwed my wife

who? It’s me?

I did not recognize

my former well-built

shell of a golden boy.

 

She moans – but not

from pleasure

turned horse whisperer

snake charmer…

My body ‘s wide awake.

 

I hear complaints and

her angst she harbours

coming of age

drying up skin

like oven dried prunes.

Yet steely and tough

a boat on high seas

coping for survival.

 

I recall having discussed

necessary preps for

one’ own death

she shies away from

such musings.

 

I unscrew the filter

on the water tap

while the kettle heats up

and hot water will be

ready for tea.

 

It’s humid. I wish to be

on the Isle of Crete

where Great Gran had

once eloped from.

His name still features

on a village’s signboard

close to the university

of Heraklion’s campus.

 

At SOMA I collect some

groceries

dark bread and chocolate

but coffee – it has to be

Illy coffee –

from the supermarket

nearby.

 

It started raining continually

my head covered

and the goods in a holdall

and carrier bag.

 

Time to go and get on the

bus 241.

Nema.ameN

 

zoltanzelan

©ZJG-POetry’17.

 

 

 

 

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