THE FOX

The fox looks at me
It is not a fox

It looks away.
It looks away from itself
and from me.

Who told it to be a fox?
Who found it here?

The fox finds me
by mistake
and throws me away again.

It doesn't want to be a fox.
It doesn't want to be me.

It's just the desert,
that's all.

*
by Norbert Ruebsaat