p.o. box 3.14


                tired of evil things
                fresh from my latest escapade
                the nightingale's blood under my nails
                its song yet howling in my ears
                what did it mean?
                it told me
                it beseeched me with its claws
                i remember its crystal whisper
                yet i left, i abandoned that pinancle
                stumbling
                out of the bar
                after 29 straight tequilas
                i cursed the sun
                i cursed the traffic
                i cursed the shoppers
                my clothes were poor
                my hair unkept
                my pen a pencil
                they sneered at me
                my offense was the crime of innocence
                you see, i was a savage
                born in rain
                i ate ants
                i killed armadillos with darts
                i swam with piranhas
                i rose with the sun when it penetrated the leaves
                i slept when the moon swallowed the smoke of the fire
                i was naked
                sometimes i climbed the tallest tree
                sometimes i held my breath under crocodiles
                sometimes i refused sleep for days
                until the worms talked to me and i fell in love with mud
                why? why did i do these things?
                i do not know, of course
  how can you know when you do things that make you so happy that reasons seem like                 crimes?
                and
                then
                i don't understand what happened
                one day the rain came as usual
                but fire too and machines that killed
                my tallest tree vanished
                a kind person saved me
                took me away, gave me clothes and school
                now i know several languages, i know things my people
                could never imagine, i know the conception of past, present,                 future, i have discussed the end of the world, i know what                 it is to kiss with your clothes on, i know the price of things
                yet i want to remember
                i desire to remember
                i yearn to remember
                I know living in the past is wasteful
                yet there is something i want to remember
                is it a dream?
                or
                29 straight tequilas?



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