Shrug
He sleeved his cold hands
shrugged his shoulders didn’t
see the prism bent by
leaden clouds
cursed for his bad luck pointed
to dark glass of his room
resembling empty sockets of
his skull
two different fates hover
one for him the one for others
staggering on flagstones
considering
café garbage bin
pile behind the pub
Manolis Aligizakis 