An oil puddle

The slow lullaby of a ticking clock

A heavy needle traveling

at the pace of a scared turtle

Still clouds crowding together

on their heavenly bed

sewing a blanket

with the patience of a grandmother

There is no way out for my gaze

but the glaring light of the screen


Suddenly, lunchtime resonates

And my legs jump together

And my lungs resurrect

And my veins fill again

with the sap of youth

and the breath of freedom

Already the city is at my feet

The lake, the mountain

The sky and the cathedral

Different shades of gray today


In search of bright colors

I wander up and down, down and up

The narrow alleys of sandstones


The needle has left its hibernation now

And it has started running 

at the pace of my legs

Who ever said I needed a watch?


I fold down the sails, resigned

And I call back the convicts

“Row, poor fellows, row

Against the current of my feet

Head down, to the place of staled time”


Just then, on the edge of a road

A road like many many others

five meters and a half wide, states the bible

spiced with a straight white line right in the middle

and two biscuits two meters each protruding on the sides

Something catches my gaze

and the oarsmen stop their effort


Two oil puddles

Side by side

The colors of stars

And those of parrots

Mixed together


Two oil puddles

Silent and still

With many a story to tell

About the magic

Of fluid dynamic


The expansion of cells

Viewed on microscopes


And that of the ozone hole

Observed by satellites


An absentminded car

Spilling its blood all around


A broken egg

Lording on an empty stove


Twin souls

Observing each others

Without daring to reach out


And a poem found

Over the surface

Of an oil puddle