by Oren Shafir
Oren writes: I am a truly international person. My mother is American. My father is Israeli. And I am married to a Dane, which explains why I've been living in Denmark for the last seven years. I have two amazing children and am expecting a dog in the near future (we just bought a house.) I work as a writer/editor for a software company in Denmark.
pretend we're going
Every place looks the same.
Empty streets lead us
To empty boxes
Where we park our car
Next to neon-colored numbers
That remind us where you are:
On shiny floors amid electronic goods
Gone is the touch and smell of wood.
And every day is the same.
The cold wind
that howls over and over us
The cold wind that howls at my door
Huffed and puffed and blew away a cloud,
And the moon glared in my window
To come out.
And every day is a little bit colder.
exactly how much time we have
We have proof.
We have the scientific means,
It is written on the wall,
It's written on our video, television and computer screens.
We have some time to save time
To think about how much time
We have no time
To pursue things yet unattempted
In prose and rime.
And every day is one day less.
At night, I
awake to pee
And I can't see
Of a clock
And I don't know in the half-light
Whether it's morning or whether it's night
And you stare back at me, unlovingly
Through the looking glass
Asking what's the matter
Have you murdered time like the Mad-hatter?
And I panic. And my stomach sinks
Like a nuclear submarine,
And number two becomes number one,
Do you think I'm having fun?
Every day's a Cuban missile crisis.
I don't give a
shit about Michelangelo,
If I had any desire left
To see naked thighs and arms and breasts
I'd run a search on the Internet.
I'm not misunderstood.
I have no questions.
I am not Hamlet or even a fool,
Unless the fool is Yorick.
Oh where are
Who will tangle and entice me with Circean song
Then drag me down
Never again to feel bereft
How much time is left?