I will never win this Nobel prize,
I told my friend,
while we were eating vanilla icecream
on a dry bench from Platan tree’s Alley.
it wasn’t more than 13 Celsius degrees
in the atmosphere and
my fingers looked dead,
colder than a glacier.
I don’t understand what happened with the World,
But you see?
They don’t know how to make it anymore!
When we were kids, the taste was great!
Now they all taste the same and something…
I was searching the word.
Is missing? he said.
Yeah! Missing….
and for some good minutes,
maybe seven,
we remained silent under those trees,
licking our desserts, with numb tongues.
when we started to talk again,
the shape of words became abrupt,
without control,
as when you’re drunk.
so we begun to laugh.
I mean… I was laughing, he was smiling.
he was smiling because I was laughing,
I think.
Why you said that?
What?
That you will never win the Nobel prize?
I wondered who owns the Earth,
people or books?
maybe people.
maybe not.
not yet.
The prize is for the one who likes competition,
even when he is not aware of it.
Might be so deep buried inside,
that is undetectable.
Some notice it only on stage, when they hear
the applauds.
However I believe there is a minority…
Is overused this word, minority,
don’t you think?
but I didn’t wait for his answer
and I continued
… there is a minority which gains by chance
or badluck.
Isn’t it ironic to be the winner
when you hate it so much that you can
feel it in your bones?
Especially in autumn, when your bones
start an anti-weather revolution.
we walked from the alley through
the lighted crossroad.
waited there a short time for
the green colour.
an ambulance droved fast
with blue alarms on.
a black car was spreading around
commercial European hip hop
from an unidentified Central-East country.
If I would be that Nobel guy,
I would give you my prize!
But I’m not and this is ok,
‘cause you’re part of a minority
that evoids the crowds.
and we passed together on the other side.
luciabordeianu 
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