“Wat maakt het zo klein?”
What I first saw of the finger, what it
did do, was push a bike like the bead
of an abacus from high on the right
to the opposite corner. The rider knew
nothing of this, but I could see it clearly.
What the finger didn’t do, later in the day,
which I also saw, was swipe leisurely
through the pollen across the top of my car.
The pollen was green and would’ve tasted like candy.
From chains “securing” bikes at the bike rack, Westplein, Utrecht. I don’t steal the bikes. I just collect the links.
Not a fixed-ghost lump of sugar,
but sugar rejoicing, rising in tea