Poem from the North of France

“We’ll be there any day now”

We say, sitting in the dust of cars past,

With home made signs,

With our best pathetic-shy-but-friendly faces.

A car slows down.

Coasts pasts. He reads our signs.

Gives us either:

A kind look, that is also an apology.

A glance that suggests that we are idiots, because we are.

A supportive (in the metaphysical sense) wave.

A buse.

Not long to wait anyhow.

We’ll be in Morocco any day now.

: 01 Apr 2010 19:06 |  Comments (0) |  Report a problem