Nothing Is Mine for Long

by Nachoem M. Wijnberg

I lend money to others, and with them to yet others, it’s not just passing it on.
Too much always happens at once to be able to say where the profit is being made.

Have I forgotten how many decisions are mine when I am trying to be as free as possible?
But I am free because I lend them to those who want to profit from them.

If somebody has stood before me to ask for money, I don’t ask his shadow for interest,
But for a share of the profits, never a share of the losses.

A monkey throwing darts at the stock market page in the newspaper will get rich faster than me.
If the monkey makes a bad decision, it doesn’t count its losses with the excuse that otherwise it won’t learn anything from it.

Mirrors direct the light onto the paper on which the bookkeeper does his sums.
If he makes a mistake, he pays a small fine.

I make a kite from paper and string and sell it to buy a parrot from the profits.
The bookkeeper cannot explain how it works, not even with the parrot on his shoulder learning to do sums instead of talk.

I open a door when somebody wants to go from here to there and approaches quickly,
And a door when somebody wants to go from there to here and approaches slowly.

In this way I enlarge the difference between here and there, that’s profit, but not really,
Because I have to add in how much it costs me to be able to say how fast somebody is approaching.

I don’t forget what sometimes comes at me quickly and sometimes stays far away,
But I do think that it might not be mine.

If I have to remember something to long for it, is it less
Than not longing for what I remember, but counting the seconds until I can see it again?

Last updated November 13, 2022