| Tuesday.
(sidebar: the tube westward)
Fade
in with guitar & Lililisa Tomigerra yangchin.
there
is nothing on the screen. disregard the nocturnal signals.
pay no attention to the mind
that remains restless. everybody else is asleep.
boil 12 ounces for the last
packet of brown powder. take it out of the room along with your cigarettes.
crack the window open. sigh
with discontent at the wind that howls out your name.
your mind is a sieve. language
is the filter you’ve chosen to aid memory.
there are no words to describe
the separation. more is less: this is no time to think.
footsteps in darkness are audible
past midnight. next door someone cries out in their dreams.
the light blinks once or twice
in silent secret. you have finally figured out the rest of what it means.
have no remorse at the least
of your worries. material objects possess no spirit.
this life is temporary in
its fragile beauty. therefore less is more, but you can hardly feel it.
-
Jumping the turnstile requires
timing and a modicum of skill.
Olds say, "Not everybody can churn out a tune with just three strings".
Somewhere in me was a past life
that wanted to climb out and just sit with him for a few more seconds.
The metro arrives. I’ll probably
see him and the others in dreamtime. Fragmented in someone's bootleg revision.
Velocity shrill metal and plastic
carriage we descend unto the gray dimlit underbelly of the street.
Streets in the city have strange
names. Were the natives restless with impending angry god musing
or merely bored with precaution?
Your tag bare on the side, encrusted subterranean fluorescent inadequate.
Suppressing even the most grateful
smiles, winsome weekend cheer lurking, covered ears piped-in tunes
sweep away dreary mundane secundus.
In the old country even simple travel was an involved affair.
The rumbling sway distraction
of the next stop. Doors are closing the snooze button of conductor’s mantra.
I can glean your face with
a slight twist. A softened reflection on the other side of the glass.
Lift your head
I’m on the left. No signs tell
where it is we’ve gotten lost again. I can see your chockablock house
from here.
From here I can see everything.
last up 04 05 +1 @ 16 49 |