The ever-recurring discussion:
It smells like cod-liver in here.
He replies that he does not smell it.
You never smell anything she claims.
He walks close toward the newly
Painted wall and puts his nose
Close to it:
Indeed a strange new paint smell
But cod-liver does not come to my
Mind at all.
Well if this happens again I’ll move out
She says with emphasis on out.
Where will you go?
He wonders about her over sensibility
But she always had this kind of
Immediate reactions.
You could ventilate he said and then
Returns to his computer work.
No I won’t! The landlord’s car smells
Of diesel fumes
I don’t like to have in here either.
- He rests with his replies
As she accuses him to be always
Aggressive towards her.
He isn’t.
She is the stirrer in such argumentative
Talks.
He packs his knapsack.
Today he has an appointment with
The orthopedic surgeon about his
Knee troubles.
Otherwise he would have taken off
On one of the great trails
Through the lush Viennese Woods.
Trails and wholesome peace
Surrounding sound of silence.
No more agro.
Aggro.orggA
zoltanzelan
ZJG-POetry’18.
