Petri György: Mosoly

Meg fogok halni. Nem is oly sokára.
S ez olyan könnyű szédülettel tölt el,
Mint ifjúkoromban – kezdő dohányost –
Az erkélyen reggelente leszívott
Első néhány slukk. Ez azóta elmúlt,
Persze, ahogyan elmúlt annyi minden.
Hovatovább csak egy maradt velem,
De az igen, Istennek hála érte!
A szem mohó, éhes kíváncsisága,
A nézés gyönyöre, hogy minden látvány
A maga más-más módján színöröm:
Egyforma szép a szurok és csurgatott méz,
És egy kazánház tekergő csövei
Burkolva üveggyapottal és sztaniollal.
Vagy egy tengerszem türkizzöldje kék fenyők közt
És a levegő üveghitege. Egy eldobott
Üres cigarettásdoboz céltalan zörgő
Összevissza szálldogálása az út betonján
a változó szél szeszélye szerint. A mosoly
egy besüppedt ínyű fakó banyácska arcán,
egy szemzugában sárga gyantacseppként megülő könny,
valamint a feszes húsú ifjú leány
csöppnyi tokája, fogainak kimutatott fehérje,
miből, bár csak egy kissé, túl sokat mutat,
ám ez nem baj: a szépség
fűszere és forrása – a hiba.
De nemkülönben a munkásasszonyok visszeres lába,
És a piacon a halárúsnő pontyvértől és harcsanyáltól
Iszapos, félig elfagyott, szederjes, lilás keze –
Mert az angyal a részletekben lakik.

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