22nd of November
Frosty sunshine; I didn’t look at the colors;
I didn’t turn my eyes towards them.
I know of nothing but my cigarette
and the weight of its ash.
I contemplate on the most bizarre things.
During the nights, soon as we lie down,
the rats wake up,
walk around the table, gnaw edges
of our shoes and our papers; they sit on
our stools, lick the leftover oil off the cans
and we always find holes in our bread and
traces of their paws on the table.
Monday is usually full of holes and small
crosses of dust from one end to its other.
Manolis Aligizakis 