Gedicht
Philip Hammial
Tunnels
Tunnels
Tunnels
I’ve begun to walk with a stoop. The weight of the world on my shoulders? No, not at all. It’s the tunnels. Everywhere I go – out to the garage to find a tool, into a supermarket to buy some food – there’s a tunnel to pass through & one that’s never quite large enough for me to stand fully upright in. Who puts them there, always directly in my path, no matter what (even anticipating a sudden deviation on my part) & why? Out of simple spite? To teach me humility? I’ll probably never know.
© 2005, Philip Hammial
From: Swann Song
Publisher: Picaro Press, Warners Bay NSW
From: Swann Song
Publisher: Picaro Press, Warners Bay NSW
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Tunnels
I’ve begun to walk with a stoop. The weight of the world on my shoulders? No, not at all. It’s the tunnels. Everywhere I go – out to the garage to find a tool, into a supermarket to buy some food – there’s a tunnel to pass through & one that’s never quite large enough for me to stand fully upright in. Who puts them there, always directly in my path, no matter what (even anticipating a sudden deviation on my part) & why? Out of simple spite? To teach me humility? I’ll probably never know.
From: Swann Song
Tunnels
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