Chubs, the Eskimo
Darkness has fallen a long time ago
The air is freezing, the wind is icy,
Chubs, the Eskimo, climbs his bike.
His wife is angry, relations are spicy.
That’s why he’s leaving, he doesn’t like it.
From inside the hut he can still hear her screaming.
Outside the snow towers six feet high.
In the end he even lost honesty.
“I’ll buy some groceries”, what a lie.
He gains some meters, he stumbles, he falls.
The snow is so soft that Chubs almost drowns.
“Oh dammit”, ring through the black night his calls.
The Eskimo as the worst of God’s clowns.
The arctic grounds he leaves slowly behind
and at the same time the darkness ceases.
The ice on chain and tires melts
and only in his heart he still freezes.
He’s crossing water, he’s crossing the sea,
Days get longer while nights become shorter.
Chubs is only in Norway but is longing to be
even further south and at last to feel free.
In Denmark he enters a boat cause it’s there
for the first time ever he dismounts his friend,
enjoys the few sudden hours to spare,
believes that they are most wisely spent.
Central Europe greets him with open arms.
Bright daylight, mild climate is waiting for him.
But Chubs dreams of more, of even warmer fields,
he still needs the clothes that serve him as shields.
The Eskimo passes the Alps while still driving
his squeaking and rustling bike from the pole.
Reaching Rome, his lukewarm heart yearns for diving,
for swimming, for bathing, for comforting his soul.
But yet the time for a stop has not come.
His love, heart and blood are still rather numb.
Chubs is approaching the Mediterrenean Sea
and knows somehow that beyond these waters
he’ll finally be able to forget ‘bout Lily.
He doubles his speed, sweat pours down in streams
the European beach disappears with gathering speed.
Chubs leaves another boat he’s entered before
and welcomes the sands of the African shore.
All at once his icy heart has been melted,
the frost has completely been torn away.
For some reason, however, Chubs still feels not happy.
Why? The Eskimo wished that he could say.
He sits in the dunes, is watching the waves
and all of a sudden it comes to his mind:
The cause for his mood was climate not wife.
He angers himself “How could you’ve been so blind.”
Copyright by Andreas Seifert, 2007