For Every Tib and Tom Cat


38. bloodied pilgrim

my wife my harbor

for there where syrian television cannot be picked up

even if

the hostel master told me “over there, sir

and there is nothing that I can find over there

and certainly not the proper tv set where one can pick the syrians

that are the only ones

I was told yesterday

that would carry the soccer match I would gladly see today...

there then I’ve been sent

on my own as if on a crazy goose chase...

and over there is all crowded up already

and even if from a door a bold strong man

appeared and he must have heard me

because he asked me in catalan

if I were a catalonian

where I answered beaming in the affirmative

upon which the herculean man acknowledged the answer with a nod

me too” he said

not dourly just matter-of-factly

and left me with my right foot in the air

for I was taking a step toward him

but he’d already gone inside closing the door...

and then shrugging I went down the corridor some more

and must have found the other “there” there

where I must have been supposed to be

but always so crowded the nook

and the room I thought was mostly meant

already with two guys cramming it somehow

in such a tiny room with such a big mess of thrown things about

with each of the two not too fine smelling guys flopped

on two narrow hammocks hung in the middle of the tiny hole of a room

one hammock over the other

and no room for anything else

certainly not for another bloody pilgrim

and no bathrooms anywhere that I could see

and me already with the ominous stirrings on my lower bowels

and their minuscule television set set not on the syrian channel and my match

but set on mute on some silly varieties shenanigans

and me saying to the one guy that looks my way

the other probably too pissed with booze or hashish

listen, sorry, but I was told by the steward that this is my room

and listen, tell me, do you get the syrian television channel on your tv set?

so the fellow who could listen jumped over the slop

a slob over the slop

and came my way

pushed me a little so he could go through the door-gap that had no door

and went directly to the kitchen with me following him...

communal, crowded, and with nothing edible about

the kitchen was a bigger mess yet and the guy got hold of the steward

and asked him “was it true were I assigned to their tiny nothing of a room

already so crammed?

the steward saw me as directed by the slovenly guy’s gesture

and told me forthwith “sir, I told you your room was this one

showing me a not too clean corner bench over there on a corner

of the kitchen itself

no privacy, no curtains, no bedding, no nothing on it beside filth...

so the slob went back proudly to his shitty room

glad maybe that my “room” was much shittier than his

and the busy steward had disappeared meanwhile

and I was left standing there in the kitchen

the stewing kitchen

with children and women semi-naked all and doing

their necessities, culinary and otherwise

inside stinking cooking utensils...

I threaded back my way to where my wife had her room assigned

I knocked softly on the shiny mahogany-colored door

I pushed in

she was in the dark

the curtains pulled over the window

she was on the bed inside the sheets having a nap

her bed was quite capacious and the bedding quite well suited

and I saw immediately that she had in a corner of the neat room

a quite proper tv set now off

she was smiling beautifully at me

I said “honey, can I use your toilet? they have put in a corner

of the kitchen with nothing about but noise

and lots and lots of people cooking and shitting in the same pans

one almost would say indistinctly...

her smile a little bit wider now she said “be my guest

and after you are done come and crawl here inside besides me

there’s space enough

and you’ll be warm and cozy

and maybe you’ll even be able to pick up your match in the syrian channel

if you don’t put the voice on

and you don’t get too crazy celebrating the goals of the catalonians...

my beautiful beautiful beautiful wife

always the one also with the best room of all!

Never so well

Never so well


anyocs de nyacs!

who the 'ell?

La meva foto
C.R. Morell his paltry efforts,