Winner: Colin Jansen
June 21st, 2013
By Colin Jansen
My mum bought a table and the salesman told:
The wood, it works and stains are kept.
Character builds, once it gets old.
The table tells a story; how we spilled tea,
on that morning in June, my brother’s birthday;
A great story about us and his new puppy.
Yet, we use placemats, napkins,
We cover it up.
The tea is caught, when it gets out of the cup.
The table is clean, besides that one stain,
Its character is flat, stories are lost, why always so clean?
I can’t explain.
Once I was out for dinner and I spilled something on my pants
Conditioned as we are, I wanted to clean,
Yet thinking how this stain will remind me of dinner with my friends.
A story arises from the stains on my jeans, why do I even wash?
If it’s a photo that I save, why not the stains?
Why try to be clean and ever so posh?
Building our stories, as we go. Pants dirtier, and so are we.
Paris, Berlin, this is where I’ve been.
Wherever I go, the stains I take with me.
Last week I got asked, and I didn’t reply;
Hey, my friend, what is that smell?
It was then that I knew why.
I remember now, why we clean.
My birthday back then and the pie we threw
Mum got angry, and oh so mean.
Jeans are washed but memories are kept.
I understand our culture.
The stains are gone and I accept.
Stories are told, tomorrow as well.
We wash, we clean, we start again.
Because it’s not in the jeans, the tables; but in the men.
And if you’re wondering about Guy Vernes,
Its there, in the story. It’s in the BLEND.