ASPHALT
Just
now the barge for Haarlem
passed
through the street. Along the pavement
towed
the scrawny horses with the lad and in
the
middle of the road my grandpa’s grand
father
cleft the waters. Don’t leave me
behind
here I cried through the window
from
where I saw them pass, I can’t just stay
here
on my own, but borne along they took
the
turn left to the park. The asphalt
closed
up, from depths that I’d clearly seen
streaming,
reflecting and
rushing,
no fish leapt. Let’s hope
I
thought that with still liquid tide they’ll
get
to where they would be bound tonight.
Everything
lay as it always lay.
You
arrived, quite late, parked
carelessly
as usual, took your case
from
the car and standing there on
solid
asphalt looked straight up at me.
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