hour thirteen

the empty place
in the armchair
everytime I drink
my coffee

the missing minutes
of our talk in the morning

the silence
in your room
nobody turning on
the laptop
at midnight

so many white nights
after you are gone
my face has gone
pale white

I feel this life
is a ghost
not a dream

hour twelve

the moon looks
into the lake
checking
something
I also check
in a ladies’ room
at parties

a morning glory
climbs the fence
in a panic

someone has a spare
tire
to give me

hour eleven

You told me you were a traveller
alone on your road
from time to time
from gig to gig
you’d make new friends
then lose them
then make others

I wished I coul accompany you
but I had some other life
held back by it

I wanted you here
to give you a home

you just wouldn’t settle in one place

hour ten

I see their grace
in every step
the way they glide
along the streets
in town
the way they walk
across the fences
and jump over
on my windowsill

the cats in town
never sleep
at night

hour nine

I wished I could walk
on the sky
slowly gliding
on its blue
without glass

there are many bridges
from where we could jump
and dive into the blue water
just like into the sky

hour eight

I could nou reach Carl Jung’s house by the lake
when in Zurich
I wished I could find him
and get closer to him

when in Zurich
I watched the swans floating on the lake and I hoped to find him
and get closer to him
and his symbols and archetypes

I watched the swans floating on the lake and I hoped to find him
I could not reach Carl Jung’s house by the lake
and his symbols and archetypes
I wished I could find him

hour seven

I wonder
what will happen
in a few years
in this house
we were told
we’d become more and more
like our parents

hour six

In kindergarten we’d crawl through the lavender field to pick up some other kind of flowers that would grow only there. We wouldn’t pick up lavender. We would pick up, if I remember correctly, some flowers we would call stars. They were white and with sharp petals. The guard would blow his whistle, thinking we were picking up lavender. We had no way of explaining him what we were doing. Our nanny would also not believe us. Those starry flowers became a rarity and a treasure among our group.

lavender field –
the way we are scolded
out of the blue