New Vorst

So we sat on the black side
near the logs.

I looked at shy Jesus.

“Show me the way you dance
to this song,”
I asked Wim.

He span.

Els perched on a chair edge,
pad on lap.

She sketched a stiletto sprint
down the Spoorlaan.

Koen plonked a jar of ants
on the wood floor.

“Look at that,” he said.
and “here comes the queen”
in falsetto,
as his hand mimed an ant and crept
to the jam jar.

“What is Web 2.0?” I thought.