Compromises
The barbwire, the stucco, the tumbled windows.
The woman yelled from the roof: “Katina, Katina”
The produce vendor scratches his balls.
They took five more men to the precinct.
They carried ten more to the cemetery.
They build two more new high rises.
The trees don’t understand anything, they look.
“One way or the other, we all die,” one said.
“It’s not the same” the other protested.
“A protest is also an excuse,” the first one said.
Then, suddenly, the wind perked up.
The paper napkins were blown off the restaurant table.
The servers looked from behind the doors.
“Aren’t they like birds?” and he showed the napkins.
The first man accepted the compromise. He stopped talking.
Manolis Aligizakis 