There is this girl who thinks of the worst,
If there is danger she knows first,
Trembling believing her heart burst,
Every foot-step feels like a curse.
Life is bigger,
But not for her,
She goes under,
To feel safer,
Her poor soul whimper.
Don’t go there, she cries,
Those are places,
Where old men break their bones,
Fierce dogs run without laces,
Children with pale faces.
Long long way from home she scratches her arms until they bleed,
And remember the face of the milkman who did her a deed.
Fears to plunge into oblivion,
She walks with her head down,
Knows every hole on the ground.
Eklutna Annie is on the window.
Life is unknown.
There is this girl who thinks of the worst.
Desperate to unravel the secret of the universe,
She fails, even to end this verse.
January 2016; on the train from Geneva to Zürich