It was a morning like all the others,
by Herbert Nehrlich
triste, weather cloudy, cold and blah,
nothing on that stupid telly or the radio,
no selection in the blasted fridge,
neighbour's kids all fighting and the cats
maintaining territory through their bloody screams,
the tax collector left his pink collection
the puppy messed the covers of my bed,
that tiny drip straight from the attic now is big,
unfinished mail piled up on two disordered desks
the pension application's deadline was last week,
two ingrown toenails hurt with every single step.
And, we who always did consider we were lucky,
to be inhabiting a sandy coral island,
are writing this from castles in the sky now.
It was the Great Tsunami. Came and saved the day.