Caerus

there´s wörk tomorrow, i guess there was work today, but no one expected us to do it, so we didn´t. Maybe God expected us to do it, but no one expects you to care about that guy anymore, except for that pious woman on the street (and no one expects you to listen to her either), so we didn't. It’s always pointless work diligently done on mondays, pointfull work left undone clean-conscienced on sundays. But Sunday evening, it's the lord’s work, cause you realise that you have not done what actually had a point, and will keep doing what hasn’t, and you laugh at the absurdity of it all. Or you cry alone, perhaps that might happen too, perhaps that’s more likely to happen, perhaps that is what I am doing now-

Alas, away, I need to be somewhere else! A cab to nowhere land, might pick up a few folks, I know them well, for a long time, imaginary friends are like that. So I’ll drive the cab, except that it is not a cab but my own two shoes. They have holes in them, but that’s ok. Except that it is not ok because water is coming in, and now I’m sinking, and it’s cold. Why did we set out in a cab! It is so clear we needed a boat! And those leaks let in memories, they’re nice. Nice in the way a fire is nice: cosy and making you think of lovely stories, perhaps of love, or marshmellows. But the thing is that you are the thing that is on fire, so you look for something to put it out. Where is all the water now? But a blanket will do! or so you think, so you go home to get one. On the way there the statue on the bridge is playing blackjack with itself. It says “see you again next week” and takes a sip of whiskey, or maybe translucent orange juice. You do not understand, didn’t your life just change? Then you remember last Sunday evening. Some Sunday evening that was.