This town is small. People know each other.
Effortless you hear and see a lot happening.
You know where the rich, and therefore where the others live.
The homeless? The homeless are being hidden.
The city takes care of everyone, you know.

Derailed they are, the homeless.
You'll find them somewhere around Central Station.
The city takes care of everything.

Station residents always emerge at the same places:
the supermarket for a free coffee and some bread crumbs;
big events for more, including hope and happiness.

They sleep in the park or in the departure hall at CS.
You know them well.
And occasionally you say 'good morning' or 'hello' to someone.
But they never greet back.
As we all, they're too busy in their own world.

One of them often dances and jumps around in town.
He's still young.
A young man with dark, short dreadlocks.
And such black dots of curled hair on his head.

He's a sweet, young guy.
His big smile enlightens both worlds.
Well, actually, the smile is a little dazed.

You may think he's seeing you.
That is not so.
He definitely is watching.
He definitely sees everything.
He lives a busy life.
However, it all is veiled ~ no room for you over there.

Yesterday afternoon he ran into the park.
Straight to the statue.
The sculpture of a mother and child on the run.
The woman's left hand reaches into the distance.

So, yesterday afternoon, this young man: he embraced the mother.
He grabbed the reaching hand.
And gave her the most loving smile you can imagine.

Suddenly he began to speak.
Come, he whispered, step away from your image.
Come on down.
Wait, let me help you.
Watch it. Look at the ground.
Come, he said, we're going home.

Happy and contented he danced out of the park.
His right hand was holding a left one going next to him.


25-11-2012 (*Spring 2012)