These circumstances, difficulties
and your behaviour
lately

I don't know myself that way
although I see a bit more
who I am, and you, we

and how things are going
Unsolicited
I just have to

make the best
of it again
What should be different?

Two, three things
now you that you ask
If it's possible

And then
make the best of it
together

My dear, my dear
and I are bored
he is surfing

the internet and I practise
not to disturb him
fingerings in the air

I will go away, move
and he? frets himself
looking for a way out

slowly the night falls
silently I close the piano
if only I could help him

foot by foot four passes
to behind his chair, gently
I touch him, caress

an arm, he puts the screen away
and leans back, lets me
wrap my arms around him

quietly he lays his hands on mine
if only he had tears, words
if need be, passionate kisses

A second, a stain flies over
the wall, a seagull

the evening is brewing and I
lie in my shirt on the bed

and read Plato, the allegory
of the prisoners in the cave

I hear my husband, close quickly
the book and turn around

with my back to him
I pretend that I'm asleep. He comes

and sits next to me, unpleasantly
warm against me

My buttocks are exposed
but he takes no notice of that

The idea pushes me to later
to looking back on my life
since the answer

I am going to give now
to his question, his second
proposal: he wants a child

He sits on my stomach
looking so seductive and sweet
that I wish to

keep it as it is
with the two of us and the pill
better I don't say anything

pull him over to me
kiss his eyes shut
and attack

Great-great-grand does sound old
but he was younger than you

fifteen years, the toughest
boy in the street

and I used to be the prettiest
the happiest too: a girl

born on my birthday
We were fine

with the money from Dutch John
the sweet boarder, my lover

when tough Louis left leaving
only his name for our little

Francis, your great-grand
dead as well

when your time began

I like to look at you
still want to
pull the towel away
wrap me up in you, wet on wet
It used to be possible more often
always, I think, it is almost all
we need

Now my thoughts caress
your body in the golden
mean between longing
and receiving, tame
we lie together
until it gets too hot
or uncomfortable

My hand strokes
good night
over your sweet curve

The morning sunlight
on our face, our house
of brownstones, the promise
of the future that we chose

It is really starting now, we will
walk along the channeled stream
and the children will play
under the pines on the hill

Here we want to root
broadly and deeply
until the sun sets

We have unpacked our stuff
the cards with congratulations
next to the vase with tulips

the bed open
the house inaugurated

We are honest
we keep the game going
with serious faces
without playing that we play

We say out loud that
our expectations are fighting
with the facts we say

we accept
and we warily search
in each other for solid ground
for our loose anchors

The mantle of the ropes
that connect us, is being
scraped to shreds
and we warily search

under water
for places to grow
from and with each other

for our adventure threatens
to get stuck in inability
like a project in a final phase
without end

The night-light is still on
we're on the bed, we look
at each other and we look away

Our words are unsure
so nude
that they can't lie

but speaking the truth
is too difficult, oh
we've each other

discovered already, up
to the limit of our shame
not for the ordinariness

of our bodies
impatience, disinterest
and lazy ignorance

but for denying
that we do not meet
our ideals

How can I more closely
make you feel in the dark
that it's good with us anyway?

You look so sweet at me
I don't have to dream about it
that you love me

but the romantic heart
in my head is afraid and
wants the best, lifelong

happiness, the greatest imaginable
in short, love, the eternal
always praised love

that you don't see around you
because, you know, people in love
can hardly live

without each other in their minds
but I want to be mature and
restart our relationship

after every crisis, or not
and always cherish what we have
experienced, what nobody else has

taken part in

My love, why are you still dreaming
of the Madonna I don't want to be?
Why are you standing at the window
with your back to the woman
who wants to take care of you?

Do you see only short circuits
in the depths of the city, car in
car out, while you want a woman
who is above that, averse
to backseat fiddling?

Why do you dream
of escaping? What makes
her nest, my affection a cage?
Why do you dream
of Mona Lisa?

Is there no power there?
Is it only sparking, faintly
somewhere between your belly
and your head? Does it spark
with her too? You hope?

Then you want to run away
let me feel for hours
that I'm very, well
as if you are right

You tear yourself loose, always stronger
always lingering at the door
sometimes I get ahead of you
throw me on your williewo

ride Rodeo on your chest
cuddling and massaging
until you give in
and I can present myself

as a mirror
of who you also are
so that we can escape
our loneliness

I looked at his hands
as if there was blood on them
and I cursed him
He stayed calm and read

in my eyes the shape
that he had to put on
to win me
His amorousness pushed boundaries

We had long conversations
and made future
plans for the world
as it should be

with us shining in the middle
as a sun that doesn't need to
be applauded, but simply exists
to share richly what it has

The planets follow their orbits
understanding and friendship drop down
and our hands do the work
Sometimes bleeding

The poet dreams romantic
of unearthly beautiful women
and he mocks the ordinary people

He's bluffing he will reveal
the women's secret
their fondest heart's desire

In the end he promises
loyalty to an old woman
whose words laugh at him

Women want to be the boss
of their husband and their lover
not allow them a life of their own

like in the land of Meagrebeast
where this truth is lied
by women who are jealous

and who defend their husbands
so they don't have to go to bed
with their wrong