THE DAY Poem by Gerrit Kouwenaar

The day I was there the clocks stood at seven
the neighbors on the balcony talked about peace
my father was our reporting a fire
my mother was happy she had a son

the uncles dished out pie while I lay entirely locked
the world promptly replied with sports demonstrations
the cars full of supporters crowded the evening
the aunts walked soundless with scalding water

the newsboy on his racer greeted the doctor
the eyes of the city were agog in the evening sun
because I was there in a basin of asphalt
because I was there the street organ played subdued in the distance

that night my father came home in a coat smelling of fire
he went on rubber half boots up and down the stairs
he smoked a cigarillo on the balcony
he drank a glass of wine and thought I can float.