Today is a beautiful morning in Brussels:
Blue sky with jet contrails,
And quite quiet for a city.
Streets are damp, with odd leaves from unnoticed trees.
The sunlight reaches only the tops of the tallest glass and steel skyscrapers, and their flagpoles, Giving them an air of aspiration, hope and promise.
And making you look up.
Fatal errors have been made from such perceptions, Which are so false I think.
Give me the human tenements, with their silly facades and idiosyncratic doorways – graffiti and tramps – promising little, but almost always a pleasant surprise inside – any day instead.
And here, they are just
across the road, above Pizza Hut – another sadness, out of place maybe for those seeking authenticity, but also the reassurance of common humanity.
I went in there last night;
they seat customers according to nationalities in little ghettos of common culture tables.
I didn’t like this, and objected,
saying that I spoke French
(in French)
but then a glance at the faces
of the French
made me feel not welcome,
and I saw that it all makes sense,
And that world war three
will be started by a waitress.
And now another day begins.
To battle all!
© 2010 Matthew Rhodes
poetry diary 