"Just this or that in you disgusts me;
here you miss, or there exceed the mark"
Perhaps it was some recent events
that will not be mentioned here
that drew Robert out of the cupboard
and with him the mad passion of things.
It is while I'm making the beds
that suddenly he is there,
pulling rank, this corner just so,
and fluff the pillows.
Robert, I say, not unkindly, you
should not be here, we made a deal.
I let you have her, and the terrace
too, and still you are here?
She's a snake at night, brother, the way
she writhes and turns, and what's more,
she called me by my rightful name,
and so, you see, I had no choice,
no choice at all, brother, but to
give her that which she so adores:
Eternity, and now I'm bored.
Besides, I miss these talks of ours.
Robert moves to the other side of the bed
and together we finish the job
just like when we were boys.
The soothing rituals of childhood.
Robert, I say, there won't be another
like her. Robert, she was the one.
I know brother, I know, and I'm sorry.
She was good, she really was.
Then: what do you say we open a bottle,
make some calls? The night is young.
I've missed you, little brother, really,
when was the last time you had some fun?
I watch Robert as he pace the floor,
he won't be fulfilled. There is nothing
beautiful about Robert, that's not
his fault, but mother couldn't stand it.
This one is thin and dark and says
that her name is Sabine. I make small talk,
that is my role, what school did you
say you go to, then you know professor P?
You have amazing lines, says Robert,
just amazing, he looks at me,
doesn't she have amazing lines?
Sabine, dear, you must allow me to paint you.