Privilege
I don’t get it, he says, this up and down.
To forget I look in the small mirror.
I see the immobile window; I see the wall.
Nothing changes in or out of the mirror.
I place a flower on the chair (if it lasts).
I live here, at this number, on this street.
Suddenly they lift me (with the chair and the flower)
they take me down, carry me up, I don’t know.
Luckily, I managed to put this mirror in my pocket.
Manolis Aligizakis 