Don't people just love bars Poem by Peter Theunynck

On that Friday in May - 25°C in the shade - the Frankfurt
gorilla makes a decision, yes sir, the Frankfurt Zoo
super-gorilla, without an escort, without permission:

«we're good to go». He just does it. Past the gate. As fear.
It's spattered everywhere. It jumps about like kangaroos!
Suddenly everyone a sloe, each heart jimbays to its nearest village.

With a handful of peanuts, by the skinny arm of a girl,
sixteen, from which boot did her heart rise up, back to the cage.
That's quite enough. Why this outburst?

Sudden flood of people. All peeling off their shrubbery skin.
Walk out of bounds. Reveal their gleaming teeth. What an ordeal.
So cute, that helpless beast. Don't people just love bars.

Translation: Willem Groenewegen, 2010.