Out of nowhere
There’s this fence along a certain street
and there’s rust, and dirt, and grass that’s gone brown,
and lots of cars spew exhaust fumes there;
between a church and a booth with a sign that says
ENLARGEMENT bindweed’s growing.
Today the elderly lady at the kiosk where
we usually buy our breakfast was wanting
a coca cola ice cream. She was disappointed,
she puffed – bending – over the low refrigerator.
Her voice trembled, her speckled hands quivered gently.
She took a Cactus. The ice had to be juicy.
On the church notice board a crumbling little note
about escorting our loved ones’ remains, an eternal offer
at the cobbler’s, two heels for the price of one.
Or maybe three for two, I can’t remember.
To someone it probably makes a difference.
© translated by Antonia Lloyd-Jones