Flight (extract 1)

wrote poetry last year     six months ago dabbled in stocks and shares        last week directed a dance drama

now it’s off to the Mediterranean        to take a supplementary course in some first-year foreign language

Shall I, at least, set my lands in order?

napping the whole way        all movement difficult apart from trips to the toilet
    
from the flight information sheet it seems that        he really is one of a set of well-behaved passengers

but sleep and the flesh        are always AT ODDS DESPITE APPEARANCES        flesh        can never tag along on any flight

you FLY FAR AND HIGH        while it stays behind on the ordinary nineteenth level        here all flight is downwards

the pong of dirty socks accompanying the close of eyelids

an apartment pre-ordained for the happy family        built to such precise standards

“We are really very lucky; our children are so healthy        We eat well        We are a happy family”

as if a scene in a play        captured authentic human life

a double bed        a white toilet bowl        a kitchen smelling of gas

abnormal bedding        filthy slippers        a small alarm clock that demands human lives

radio always tuned to shortwave band 2        an album of painted nudes            after finishing his business

he hastily crumples a wad of toilet paper        old magazines        empty bottles of medicine

rumpled pillowcases         a volume of prose-pieces by a certain lady

what she writes about is that heart of hers        on sad summer days

and then there are those underpants that are always getting in the way        tossed onto the carpet in full view of the public

him:        squatting on the toilet reading printed matter        below: Planet Earth, face averted

it takes him the read of a full page-article every time        “The Secrets of a Happy Marriage”

all it says is that you shouldn’t eat too much salt        You shouldn’t eat too much salt        and here again: You shouldn’t eat too much salt

dreaming of warm soapy water from the bath in the flat above his        a pornographic gurgle

his left hand feels the cast-iron drain pipe        thinking to himself:        What was it that’s been wasted?

his right hand feels his belly        to see whether        there might be any suspicious lumps

next, when he’s finished his business        and before he realizes what’s happening        the screw-loose toilet lid        comes crashing down    and     whacks him across the rump

he’s angry for a full two minutes        what does lunch look like?        make a phone call        make inquiries at the milk depot

her:        dreaming of a Western-style mattress        her arms a red hoe

resting in a black vineyard        in her dreams there’s a goat        a clay pot

a bunch of white feathers        a mushroom that turns into an old monster        the full stop of happiness not far away at all

JUST AROUND THE CORNER        when she thinks of airline tickets        her hair in disarray

the lights can be turned on at any time        the cups have been sterilized        and then there’s the credit card    and so the balcony

has not been converted into an extra room

ordinary flights        all identical        like adding a coat of paint        putting down a floor        gargling and making love

it’s all done with carbon paper        no, it’s not hell        but surely hell shares the same foundation

always less trouble        than one’s own originality        DOING THE UNORTHODOX        what’s offended is a large swathe of sugarcane

what’s offended is        the ordinary flat        the ordinary broken-down elevator        the ordinary wife        the ordinary husband

(he always wakes at 11.30        a fat man cold-shouldered by the beach        the ordinary

lack of interest in sex        the ordinary migraines        the ordinary respiratory problems        ordinary diabetes

“It’d be great if it were free”

FLIGHT (EXTRACT 1)