a telephone call

a few years back
a called me
and said
it' s not too late
you can make it
you can break free
and be

that was love
yet my ears were closed

LOGIC & CHANCE

a young man read somewhere about microfinancing

googled it

went to a microloan site

with the intention of lending 25 US dollars

the sort of money

he might otherwise have spent on coffee for a week

at the website he had to choose

man or woman ?

woman, they’ re more disadvantaged

which continent ?

no way to choose really

which business sector ?

agriculture, so many people are starving

he clicked and the website served him up a list with photos of women involved in agriculture in the Lebanon

he had selected that country

because of vague memories of reading in the Bible about Lebanese cedar

and because of stronger memories of smoking Lebanese red as a teenager

so he clicked on the image of a Lebanese woman

who was short of 25 dollars funding for a loan to purchase livestock

thus in a country some six thousand kilometers away

a woman called Nadine received a loan totalling two and a half thousand dollars

she hoped to prosper

she dreamed of some measure of financial and personal independence

of her four brothers

one, fervently anti- Western, disapproved very strongly of women working,

of Lebanese people receiving money from foreigners

one was indifferent,

one was jealous – if only he had that money he could get cut in on various illegal ventures that a friend of his was involved in

and the fourth, well he hardly ever spoke,

no-one knew how he felt about anything

one afternoon the four brothers

met and sat discussing their sister’ s life

they were drinking tea

chain-smoking cigarettes

and her life hung on a thread

and that particular woman survived

it transpired

that her brothers

grumblingly accepted the situation

A MOTORBOAT

lights of the tourist town reflected on the dark waters
henry was walking towards the café
where men and women were talking loudly, and drinking wine,
live music was playing
he stopped
took the broad stone steps down to the water

a motorboat there
was calling him

his eyes took in the outboard motor,
the boards where he could sit
the small pronged anchor in the bows

he laid his wallet and his cell phone on the step
got into the boat
pulled the cord on the motor
cast off
and set out towards the sea

he knew not where he was heading
he suspected he would not last long

WATERWHEELS

and when he says i love you
is that description
or performance ?

and when she sits alone in the kitchen
drinking coffee from a mug
looking out of the window
is she play acting ?
and for whom ?

i watch ricardo lighting a cigarette
as his stocky legs carry him forwards to his parked car
i catch a glimpse of  a reflection of a shadow of another´s life

i need some cord, a few balls of string and a well-weathered stone
to join me to this world

IF NOT ME, BROTHER, SISTER

So I write every day
on my brain screen
not my world, not my world
as water trickles and plants are growing
this my world consists of basic nonsense
political, historical, social developments
personal events, drama, emotions
pass me by
pass me by
a beggar
too proud to beg
a beggar
eyes not seeing, heart not pumping
words not speaking
an unordered house
i hope and trust
that you are doing better !

Realisation

after the news came
she closed the shop
went upstairs
felt suddenly very tired
am i not who i was yesterday ?
she hurled a glass to the floor

At a place

John Addleton drank some coffee, but it was already tepid, so he set the cup aside. He stroked his moustache and as he sat at his desk, waiting, sentences formed and occupied his mind "I have to go right back", "a play without meaning", "we don´t connect", "where is my mummy?" At five to ten, he checked his tie, pen, briefcase, the shine on his leather shoes, he blew his nose, opened the door and walked towards the chamber. Others milling around outside : "good to see you, Addleton old man, may I introduce ......?","in my opinion just get rid of them, and fast"," how are the children doing ?" "budgetary constraints are all voluntary, as you know." They went inside for the debate, which produced few surprises. At one point Addleton realised that the voices were still in his head " go right back, you have to go right back, right back to the start." At which point he coughed and his coughing, exacerbated by the dry air in the chamber, was so persistent that he had to go out so as not to overly disturb proceedings. He sat on a wooden chair by the door, handkerchief in hand, his eyes wet. It looked a little bit like he had been crying. Two cleaning ladies went by with their mops and brooms and once safely out of earshot laughed at him :" looks like someone stole his favorite toy, poor old Mr. Addleton."