An empty bus 400

Traveling a ghosting life

Not a virtual story

But it feels like one.

The April sun coaxes people

From their cave-like existence

Into the open

To start-up a worthwhile life


Ice cream shops hand your

Numbered order from one

Main access door.

You wash your hands and

Keep your distance to any


Shake no hands.

The artist is lucky

He may commute daily

To his present task

Copying a self-portrait

In Van Gogh-style

For his host and benefactor

Muse and collocutor

Who reads his poetry and

Novels –

Wide-awake capricorn

In this home from an

Estranged home –

Among an octogenarian

Family set-up.

The husband researches

The history of his rich past

The spouse reads about

Love and happiness

And the poet’s memoires

About his sentimental


The artist/ son/ lover-in-spe

Company and talking partner

Copies of grandpa’s selfportrait

Accompanied by his innermost

Coincidental music.



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