Description

The loan-shark is in possession
of my ID book.
I am behind in rent
and the landlord’s finger is in my face,
between my eyes, every day.
I pay the price of a five-star hotel
yet the conditions don’t deserve a single star.
It’s dirty, it stinks. Doors and windows are broken,
like the lives of all the tenants, old and young.
The landscape is rough.
The grass is three metres tall.
We pass time by observing it closely
and concluding that it’s greener
in one place than the other.
Here, none of us is better than the other.
We have all been behind in rent,
and we have all asked each other for food and money.