Three Men, Two Bottles of Wine, and a Photo

(Meditation Flashes on Somebody Else's Tranche de Vie)

(I've never written and will never write poetry. Thus this is not at all a poem.)

Three men
An ugly conflict on the horizon
A huge black thunderstorm cloud
Two glasses to be shared
Two bottles to be emptied
Until the conflict surfaces
In vino veritas

One photo
The remains of many days
The final outcome of the conflict.
It's always painful
That long journey through ourselves
The conflict may even be peaceful
It's still a conflict

You try to control your emotions
You try to anticipate others' emotions
All of the sudden despair sets in
You say to yourself
All this sucks
The world sucks
What the hell happened here?
What am I still doing here?
And so on, and so forth
Und so weiter, und so fort
Tja, so ist doch das Leben - grausam
Zo is dit afschuwelijk leven, zeg jij
É a vida - que fazer?
Just follow your own path
Even if you think you don't know which one is yours
Meanwhile the conflict is over, past history
There's no wine left
Not anymore
The two glasses are now broken to pieces
Just some strange sand on the floor
You have a photo in your hands
To help you through your troubled memories
That's good
That's all for the best
The wine would have erased anything still worth while
Keeping

And now what? You wonder
There's always a plane ticket
No longer in your hands?
Never mind. Don't worry
Brussel/Bruxelles, Wien or Lisboa
Any place will do just fine
Off and away
Provided the conflict may soon be over
Three men, two bottles of wine, and a leftover photo
A photo to remember you all and everything by

One day all this will be written down
You say to yourself
And then you leave
For good, you think
With the photo in your hand
Or is it the plane ticket?
Aus und vorbei. Weg.
Basta.