THIS IS A POEM ABOUT FRUIT AND WINE AND TIGERS WITH SABRE TEETH 8.16.17

 

8.16.17

i imagine this life

is the dream

and the other

undulating in glossy

waves inside my head,

that is the reality.

The rules are simple:

if you don’t like where you are,

be elsewhere.

if you despise yourself,

don’t be yourself.

So i am neither here nor me,

i am there, ten thousand years ago,

eating fruit from wild bushes

and protecting my young

from tigers with sabre teeth.

i have never brushed my teeth,

and the first drop of wine

that hits my tongue

is my introduction

to wizardry.

.

the sound of cars

on the highway

brings me back

to now,

16 August 2017,

a Wednesday at

11:44 p.m.,

in a room darkened

with failure and burnt bulbs,

in a chair with decaying cushions

staring at electric words,

which is all i’ve learned,

it seems,

in twenty-seven years.

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