Underground blues

I sing of happiness in little things
a daughter who puts lipstick on my face
the smile of a stranger when she sees my hat
the dream of reading a poem to you one day
the quiet jazz music they play in my café
the traces of other minds on my computer screen
the taste of hot coffee from a paper cup
the tranquil fantasy of a world that could have been
the clock’s nostalgic design from another land
and how the minutes kiss the hour hand
the sound of conversations in a foreign tongue
my own longing for candid talk, subdued in a song
that revels forever in all of the above,
and how I wish to succumb to absent-minded love
to sing the underground blues with all my force
to eat the sweet fruit in our garden of metaphors
I hum yesterday’s sadness in tomorrow’s drunken ears
ears that stand on fearless heads, and I dream
of sweet visions, of high words in the skies
I am driving through a tunnel with the voltage in my thighs
happiness is in little things, and that is alright:
At the end of the tunnel, there is no light
but the tunnel, my friends, is electrified

One thought on “Underground blues

  1. Heel erg mooi!
    Zo ervaar ik het ook, geluk zit in het kleine…..
    Wat wordt Miru al groot!

Comments are closed.