“good morn‘ neighbour“

”hi/good morning poet“

he responded

“what’s the matter with your

leg?” the poet said

“still hurting from your last

soccer game?”

“yes”/the neighbour said/ but

now I feel the weather changes.”

the poet placed his hands together

“i can feel it in my operated hands.”

“well then we both suffer”/joe the

neighbour uttered with a drawn


“i feel my age with all its added

benefits”/the poet retorted.

joe the neighbour laughed

he knew the poet’s ironic attitude

to pains.

“let’s talk about life/ joe said/ one

day i’ll tell you about my wanderings

from afghanistan to turkey/greece/

romania to hungary and austria.

“indeed/you’ve experienced a lot

already in your youth/ write it!

“i can tell it to you and you write it”

“well/i prefer you’ll write it/i will help

you with editing “

“and you?” joe said.

“mhh/i’m here now having travelled

the world/ mainly north-south until

i reached the cape of good hope

however/ as my wife and i are die-hard

individuals – fighting each other all

our lives with lots of hurting words…”

“well”/ joe interrupted – “hurting is all

i know about until i arrived here / and

it stopped.”

“ok/that’s good to hear/ but now in our

advanced ages we don’t hurt each other

any longer

now all scars on our bodies hurt

but our souls are still drifting on a sea of


“bye for now”/joe said.

“by joe.”



One thought on “neighbour

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