27. Mai 2013


Road trip, boat trip,
Driving on the N327
With boats and ropes and nets and anchors,
Belonging to fishermen finishing their daily work,
And we stand still and we drive on,
Without watching the clock’s hands move,
Without a destination besides the road
That leads further south,
And to the sea,
To the sea.

Road trip, round trip,
Done and rusty windmills
Have long lost their propellers of cloth,
While the road now copies their rounds,
Circling and encircling the car
And its inhabitants.
The unfolded map on the knee
And four eyes on the signs
Until it feels

Road trip, beach trip,
Eucalyptus trees enrich the air with a lemony scent,
While the truck in front of the windscreen
Swirls the dust from the top of the trees
To imitate the honey and the bees.
We follow the wind,
Until a minor sandstorm leaves us breathless
On the beach
And others

Road trip, horse trip,
The movements below almost like a ship,
Rocking to and fro,
German sounds at the animal’s ear
But only a local sound,
too familiar to be misplaced,
Shocks the rocking into galloping
And sparkling eyes come running closer
Until the dogs bark
their goodbye.

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