Poetry while still not jogging (yet?)

It’s been a long winter

The hookers have come out of hybernation and are now in full hunting season to make up for lost body weight

A traveller is making plans to settle down

To and fro

To and fro

Conquering fear and learning to grow

Life changing at a speed of 1000 km /second

Dizziness and queasiness befriending uneasiness

Freedom recalculated, renegotiated, regurgitated

Definitions reinvented

Breath shortened and deepened not effortlessly

Happiness exists

I swear I held it in my hands one night and put it in my bedside cabinet drawer for keepsake

It’s pink

Ever since

It keeps coming back to me every five seconds or so


A weekend in Hungary

We’re walking to the conference room, on the side of this big lake that’s Hungary’s equivalent of a seaside. New houses are being built, with tiny gardens overlooking long strips of land growing vineyards in the flickering light of the blue water.

I’m nervous. There’s this secret question bugging me and, on top of it, I’m wondering what in the world I am doing in this group. How did I get here? What are the elements of resonance between us? Never before in my life have I cared about money. I have always been focused on finding and fulfilling my life mission, on becoming a better person but not with the goal of becoming a rich one. So how in the world have I landed here? A long overdue task, perhaps?

He’s holding my hand at all times as if for fear not to lose me to some imposing Hungarian hunk set to kidnap me. Well, actually, for fear I might become oversensitive and try to leave (again). I’m friendly and talkative, but still keep a safe distance out of love for my personal space I do not want to see invaded by some skilled marketers and made their own turf.

I live for the moment and rarely write lines in my head like I used to. I am here, feeling the asphalt under my foot soles, the crisp evening air, the pink sunset, the loud music in the conference room that’s a little bit too aggressive for me and my sensitive disposition.

The hotel room is comfortable enough, although the two mattresses can’t be convinced to stick one next to the other, so there’s this no man’s land, a hole yawning at us from the middle, luring us in when we want to come close. We lose an arm to it, a knee or an entire leg and sometimes the whole body. We make jokes about it and laugh and take turns pulling one another out in desperate attempts to save the other and bring him into our own world.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment the whole day. Ever since we got out of bed this morning.”