dog’s weather
grey from late morning till early afternoon
the rest of the time pitch-black
rain, rain cold to the bone
the finnish call it koiranilma “dog’s weather”
riding w/ the masses on the train
hurtling thru the dark
to the light of helsinki
walking w/ the crowd
most of them silent like me
some of them talk,
i don’t understand
wrapped in my language cocoon
on the weekends it’s different
the train full of drunks
yelling, falling, stinking, singing
the man across from me drinking vodka
tipping up the bottle, he speaks to me
drunks & beggars always speak to me
i tell him, en puhu suomea ,
i don’t speak finnish
for once happy in my ignorance
( or am i? maybe i’d like to talk to him)
he speaks to others, they don’t understand
him either
i return to my flat
& turn on all the lights
Bill Lambdin: Artist Statement