The Odd People Poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

The Odd people

The stable they had converted
into a bar which looked like an opium den
it was here people from a Nordic land
congregated as a place to speak their
guttural language.
We stood there near the bar didn`t know
what to do as no one looked up
and no one bothered to get up and say halloo
I had some book I wanted to donate.
Put them on a side table the barman said
it cost 15euros each to enter.
I thought that was too much and left.
By the exit I turned, no one looked up it was
like we never existed.
Apart from a common language, there was little
I had in common with the Norwegian tribe