A scientist, a school teacher and an actor,
a dancer and liqueur maker, the teacher, and I.
We lean out of the balcony and, down there, are the people that we were,
a parade of unwritten details -the skin cannot be written on-
apparently useless, but not forgotten.
The set removed, and drawn out of their surroundings -a car factory,
a national ballet, a school,
a puppet workshop or a university lab-,
moved over to a stage
and now seen from the barrier,
dissected before the stall seats,
these characters are nothing but astounded products of SOMETHING
-let's call it history, culture, family, time-
that they have not managed or learnt to control.
And that has slipped out of their hands!