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?
poetry
directory
top
hotpiehot's
next dream