I guess I must be a man who lives in the expectation of a slap
And I must be a silly narrow man, still wet from the nanny state.
In the past, I thought I had been a burning Bastille when superstition
Was a central part of life in the suburbs. In the same order of necessities,
I must wear a mask, that of my father for a start, and denounce him
With it, on sundays when we wail, with sarcasm when we wail.
I guess I must abide by forces expressed in administrative forms –
And if I were intimate with the laws of nature, I would add this one
To the categories dreamed up to explain half-assed decisions
Of matter in the absence of will. I guess I must be a difference or
Rather, a division of two large quantities, but that’s just a guess.
What I know falls in winter with snow and wakes up mornings
With a smile alongside, before turning again to sleep some more.
And when I try to express what I know, I end up asking questions.
Image credit : Mr Bean as a dutch bourgeois.
Frédéric Benqué 