1.
Quite outside the main topic
of the conversation,
you tell me how angry you are
with your parents.
Lying on the couch of my
lullabies,
you don’t know that
you confessed it all
a long time ago.
As a literary critic
I’ve deciphered your allusions,
symbols, parallelisms and metaphors.
I peel from you
the skin of life
that protects you
from the harmful atmospheric
influence,
you remain a ripe fruit
in my hand.
Again I’m wrong when I think
I love – therefore I know.
You are a stranger.
2.
In front of you I show no weakness
you are part of the world’s landscape
I watch with my teeth clenched.
Een kopje koffie with two tears,
on the side.
You convince me in the stupidity
of my wishes.
Deflowered of the fantasy
that you will do
great deeds for me
I wipe off the blood and slime
from my legs
with the napkins in the eetcafe.
You are wrong when you teach me
how to live under the mask
of a sweet lemon –
always and for good
I am the only teacher.