PASS
I GOT NO EXPECTATIONS TO PASS THRU HERE AGAIN
1 brother out of 3 is Schopenhauerian even perhaps a
touch Machiavellian Casting aspersions upon my dream:
To retire in Guatemala by 63 You’ll have a vinyl couch
salamanders in every corner grimy tile floors +a musty
smell Smell that smell
He is otherwise cheerful +quite happy though a little bitter
over a painter I sent him 16 yrs. ago Me rolling my eyes: I
didn’t give birth to him It is also true that I have begun to
wax poetic on the 363 shades of green in the Guatemalan canopy
And I have lost my bearings in travelblog descriptions of: the light
No doubt my ennui grows unbearable to those closest to me
Imagine what it feels like on the inside
the light is mystical pasty poet
the light will seep into your desiccated veins
the light will rejuvenate the heinous parts of you
you who made jaded your life’s work
This is quite a bit like believing in heaven in the resurrection
And you yes you rise up on nearly new patent Dr. Martens in
which you will break your neck on the quaint cobblestones And
in your mind’s eye all of the detritus: furniture broken kitchen
gadgets + the mouseshit you have carted IMPLODE
Suddenly compressed vertebrae release +like a 1950’s housewife bored
silly growing more unhinged daily you toss your prescriptions: Diazepam
Lorazepam Ativan et al +dive headfirst into the freedom abyss Likely
just as terrifying as the captivity noose Poor little naked Ape walking
upright Vestigal wings clipped at scapula Rotator cuff agony from flailing
against every self-made cage you’ve ever lived in
Time to grab hold of your cahones +jump Just be careful not to scream
shiiiiiiiiit on the way down There is an ancient Guatemalan myth in which
you become what you intone in your moments of greatest fear Or to put it
another way: should you not become conscious of what you fear fate will
take you kicking and screaming there
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Winter 2018
