I can’t taste the pear!
It’s ripe and juicy,
however I can’t taste it!
Only am I able to sense its consistency.
I engage myself in something,
unable to fulfill the task.
There is an aquatic cloud orbiting me,
Question marks, illuminated and airborne
are nearby, floating.
It has finally happened
that the trees are completely nude,
exhibiting their hearts on the outside,
They withdraw, entering introspective surrender.
He walks the streets this night,
wearing a headlight – it must be 4 a.m.
His name is Vladimir, a Polish youth.
It’s raining lightly, but hard enough to penetrate
He delivers the Saturday morning newspapers.
He enters the building where I live
and comes back out after a few moments.
I approach him saying: “You’re doing a great job!”,
he looks at me with questioning eyes,
“A good job”, I say.
He replies: “Good”, and smiles, before he continues
down the street. It’s still raining.
I enter the building.