Running to catch the last train
Always so hard to get into that last train
The annoying goodbyes the emptinesses the aloneness
The realization of nothingness implied in any broken packet from the past
And then the flight
The climbing of the iron steps full of piles of recent defecations
Over the old ones – and those last over what one might call already the coprolites
Your skill in avoiding the shits
And now the running along the decrepit ones’ sinister street
With all those coquettes of a few old women without teeth
That concomitantly laugh and defecate only lifting a little their wide
And now where would you put the emphasis
Of your slipping soles that add commas of shit or quotation marks
On the text of recent defecations on the gaudy street where the dying strut...?
For you’ve come to the brink of the cliff
And now but fast the big decision
About what to do then about that road that stops or ends abruptly
Whether you should jump for the ledge to the left
Or the ledge to the right
Both ledges so bloody narrow
The drop at the lip of them so steep and deep
The ledge at the left looking more worn out and greasy
From the steps and hands of previous passers...
The left it is then...
But the drop is so fierce
Your heart is dangerously faint
Oh and now here you fly down the precipice...
Your death before the last train’s arrival certainly certified...
What a pity
But wait that your hands have managed to grab the railing
Of a balcony belongs to an end shop of a lower rung ledge
Where the people are younger though maybe meaner...
The termagant of a shop owner wants you disengaged
She comes a-poking with her butcher’s knives
She wants you down she wants you dead
Hooligan! – she’s shouting – Damned hooligan!
But the lady customer imprecates in your favor?
Well maybe she does
She’s lifting her arms to heavens and reproving the boss
Telling her to mind the eyes of the hanger-on
Look at his terror look at his outrageous fright the man’s a wreck
And anyway the bump you complain of
The bump at your window it was made from the inside
Not by any outside hooligan but by one of ours it was...
So the miracle is on
The boss’ heart softens
She turns her back she allows you to climb up the railing
And walk down the gallery to the next floor...
From that flat deserted floor full of rain and ruins
Through the neck looking down toward the lower rung
At your peril you must now traverse
The gangs of younger and younger thugs...
And then the unending useless works
The works impassable
Where the workers look at you with irrepressible hate
And their gigantic machines of raw iron dressed in loose concrete
Would swallow you whole (are they even yearnig to?) with a gulp
So you better turn legal
You better turn into the normal way of access to the station
You better alas try to make it through the worse gang of them all:
The cops – they don’t need any excuse to harass and to murder
They are the fucking law...
How they poke at you with which haughty stupid loathing
How they pretend to look for drugs or who knows which other shit
Inside your gullet with their filthy monkey hands down your choking
Finally a cruel cultivated captain – a nasty fairy
Lets you go forward into the station per se
He recognizes a fellow skeptic
Only that down on his luck
He sees a kin after a fashion a kind of compatriot
One of them with the scarred hopeless disbelieved soul...
The trail trembles becomes white hot
The train is in abeyance sighing like a dragon in the last throes of sleep
You’ll make it yet
You’ll make it
For Every Tib and Tom Cat
18. almost caught
- ► 2008 (22)
- 20. such ugly remains
- 19. trouble at the cage
- 18. almost caught
- 17. taut ribbons
- 16. bullet through the intruder's head
- 15. parsnip in her narrow beak
- 14. you bet you animal
- 13. the roar of stardust
- 12. dripping cheeks: blenched
- 11. all cross the river [one]
- 10. body or luminous arena
- 9. lights out for you, rather, you jerk!
- 8. it must be that I ain't ready to die
- 7. call the dog Geez-ass
- 6. soldiers : clostridia
- ▼ de setembre (15)
- ► 2006 (20)
- ► 2005 (39)