On The Write Path

Outside and Inside

Outside and inside

1. Outside.

Wet, always wet and gravelly to prevent the slip and slide from last night's dusting... now turned to ice.

In the chapel the sounds of workers; in the cathedral, the silence of wood.

I savor the cheap price of a hamburger. Nothing's cheap here. I'm too tight to spend on what I cannot afford to eat.

To be born here of stone and water, birch and fish... one must know how to swim.

I drown in deep depression, too self-righteous to admit I'm wrong, not ready to let go.

2. Inside.

Forget the shoes!

Skate down these gun-metal halls past wax green plants between white and apricot walls.

Listen in the silence.

The sound of the Northern Lights is allusive.

Go downstairs to rough stone and firm couches. Look left at slush-sided slopes, right at calm water. What reflects on the surface? What gleams in its depths?

Stalk behind a black-clad man to the receptionist's desk. You two are alone.

Put your cup under a spout, push a button. Hear the grind. Inhale the fragrance. It would entice a zombie. Inhale deeper. Wake up. Become alive once again.

© Kåre Enga Tromsø, Noreg. [23.januar.2016]