Last updated on December 27, 2021
Holding banana bread in my hand
A bit soggy, like the weather outside.
The raindrops crumple against the windscreen
as the banana bread crumples in my mouth
It’s more of a squish than a crumple, really.
Not a bad way to spend a Sunday afternoon.
Driving away from Christmas
Towards Bruges, being
a tourist at home
A glimpse of the cars streaming past
Like the raindrops
(only, thankfully, a bit more stable)
Sitting in the passenger seat,
the well-dressed man’s asleep
His wife, girlfriend, sister?
an earphone hanging from one side
In another car, the BMW driver
grimaces at the greyness of the world
as we pass over the local river.
It’s a funny language, Dutch
like lots of boiled potatoes falling apart
in your mouth
throw in some nails and beer for good measure
adding some nuance for the pronunciation.
I’d keep on writing here, but we’ve arrived
And now it’s time for me to look at pretty houses
As Chris Rea echoes down the street
Hold my banana bread
as I engage in conspicuous capitalism
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