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Run away (a short poem)

When I saw you at the party I wished we could just run away together

Run away from the lunatics

When to stop?

Wednesday morning, 11 AM. I walk out of the lab, through the corridor where plenty of undergraduates are hanging around between lectures and enter the large office at the far end of the building.

With mother-in-law to the conference

7:00 AM, Frankfurt airport. I am queueing at the check-in counter of Lufthansa airlines. My mother-in-law is standing next to me, humming the slowest version of “Twinkle, twinkle, little star” I ever heard.

The Dutch girl that does not belong to any nation

It is a warm summer evening 1999. A grey-haired man is sitting opposite of me at an authentic ceramic table. We are in his garden. He hasn’t been living there for long yet. “I always wanted a garden with large trees, now I have it.” We drink wine, he talks. He tells me a story about one of his seamen having an accident on the open ocean.

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