Last time I talked with my grandmother
she was stage diving in her mind
from the podium into the hands
of her dead audience of nazis,
Danish fishermen and begging Polish children.
Nothing was as it seemed,
all had gone from normality
into a world of her own
and she thought I was someone
she didn’t know. She called me Mrs.
Last time I had a talk with my mother
the same thing happened, so I can say
without being too pessimistic
there is a fair chance
I shall go bonkers as well.