Friday, October 15, 2010

Shall We?

I see my crown not as a trophy
but as a megaphone through which
I shout at the neighbors who walk
with such disdain that I must point
it out to them. Pigeons are eating scraps
of sausage out in the streets. Is it
just being on the phone that makes
me feel that I can talk to people,
or is it playing with some gadget
that makes me not dislike you anymore?
I hope this sentence worries
you as much as it does me. Holding myself
by the throat and getting really mad
at myself for doing that. I'm going to rot
in place. You see, I'm wearing your roses.
My luck is dim, I'll spit in my hand after
the meeting and show them the golden
autumnal tarp. I look at that picture
and I'm still alive as the rest of the people
in it. I can't stand something that size chubbing.
My fruit is bloated from the ferocity of the blaze.
They say that eating a plum is like eating a bruise
on your arm. A most robust incisor
is feeling the delicate areas of my body.
In closing, I'm sure someone else
saw the sky turning into sparkling bits.

2 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

"They say that eating a plum is like eating a bruise
on your arm"

Yes.

7:18 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

...inspired...

8:29 AM  

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