The wind howls in the street outside

In the far corner,
Where etiquette matters,
Where there can be no misspelled words,
Missed syllables,
The debate on ethical behaviour to animals
Takes a commercial break,
As whiskered men dry their whiskers
With neatly folded handkerchiefs,
Praising the excellent vegetable soup...

The wind howls in the street outside.

Here, the smiles embalmed,
Preserved for posterity,
Value-added laughter,
Packaged, under the seal of the market economy;
A toast
To the big alliance, the mother of all strategies,
The concept of the decade...
And by way of pre-meditated entertainment,
The tale of certain daring escapade:
Dames without names,
Conquest without context...

The wind howls in the street outside.

And there, the ones to be watched,
The ones with whom one watches every sip,
The ones to be wary about,
The ones who call for the best of pretenses,
Measuring one another's words,
Adding up the 'ifs' and 'buts'
Rounding off the sum to the nearest whole number,
Alert, vigilant,
Counting one another's drink...

The wind howls in the street outside.

*****

The rail bridge basement is an ingenious find
Sheltered from lights and the howling wind
The migrants rebuilding the city dome
Lie stretched on stone, dreaming of home.

*****