sober times

Written by: jan oskar hansen

Sober Times. 
A gigantic dark grey cloud covers the town and its environs 
and rain fall in large lazy drops that when hitting ground 
splits into a thousand droplets like cluster bombs designed 
to destroy people but let building stand. Not many cars on 
roads austerity grips us with an iron fist and no one drives for 
fun anymore, the clear sign that we must look for a modest 
future; haste for material gains we left brotherhood  behind. 
Although the day is murky light is not on in buildings around 
mine, we have to do with the light this day gives us till evening.
 Trees in the avenue are leafless, soaked and dismal now and 
elegant pavements slippery, by leaves of sternness and I think of 
the suit I bought at a second hand shop, it had been a banker´s
 who scared by the masses wroth had fled to Bahamas…he could
 have done worse. We love to hate financiers we also envy them 
so we d not have to look at ourselves for money we borrowed to 
buy a bigger house and a new car none of what we really needed.
It has stopped raining and a finger of light pokes through the grey, 
severity is easier to bear in sunlight.