From The Top Of The Stairs

Of course those who are standing at the top of the stairs  know  they know everything with us it's different sweepers of squares hostages of a better future those at the top of the stairs appear to us rarely with a hushing finger always at the mouth we are patient our wives darn the sunday shirts we talk of food rations soccer prices of shoes while on saturday we tilt the head backward  and drink we aren't those who clench their fists brandish chains talk and ask questions in a fever of excitement urging to rebel incessantly talking and asking questions here is their fairy tale - we will dash at the stairs and capture them by storm the heads of those who were standing at the top  will roll down the stairs  and at last we will gaze  at what can be seen from those heights  what future  what emptiness we don't desire the view of rolling heads we know how easily heads grow back and at the top there will always remain one or three while at the bottom it is black from brooms and shovels sometimes we dream those at the top of the stairs come down that is to us and as we are chewing bread over the newspaper  they say - now let's talk man to man what the posters shout out isn't true  we carry the truth in tightly locked lips it is cruel and much too heavy  so we bear the burden by ourselves  we aren't happy  we would gladly stay  herethese are dreams of course  they can come true  or not come true  so we will  continue to cultivate  our square of dirt  square of stone with a light head a cigarette behind the ear and not a drop of hope in the heart