The Hypocrite Walrus

Wednesday, April 23, 2008

The almost made me

It's all useless -she said.


That bottle of red wine he just uncorked to let it breathe.

The glasses for two.

The jazz tune on the old gramophone, which they bought together that sunday afternoon at her cousin's garage sale.

The dinner on the table. The ricotta tortellini he handmaded. The fresh salad. He went to the market and handpicked every ingredient, every single vegetable, as if he was a painter choosing colours for his master piece.

The strawberry dessert. With chocolate. Sugar. Ice cream. Honey. Maple syrup. Anything she might think of.

The french love movie he rented, and payed for extra to the video store clerk to have it unrented that day.

The haircut. The shaving. The outfit.

All the love wasted away in the making.


It's all useless -she said.
And drew an uccomplice smile on her face.

Then he was glad to remember what a joker she's always been.

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

Where thou is

I lay here on a fever
and it feels like the room
is locking me up by the flanks
Moving forward on me
and I am
getting madder
and madder

I remember last night
I almost fainted on the sidewalk
just as 4am was stepping
on my heels
Everything went black

And I knew
all I had left to do
was to walk through
the dark

To hold on
a little more

It just so happens
that I don't want to be
one of those sissy leftists
just sitting there
all day
whining
crying
not taking matters
in hand
Jerking off on
Mao, Tao
Marx, fucks

Nor I
want to be
a stinky rightist
watching
laughing
mocking
rotting
Always believing
to be
the next best thing

So I held on

Quietly
Without ever
letting my bottle
go off of my hand

Without letting
myself go
from myself

I needed a smoke
But I must confess
I needed you more

Mumbling
Stumbling
Bumbling
Trampling

On the dead streets
through my empty echoes

Until I finally got
home
to your arms

With my cheek on
your other cheek
and my heart
on your sleep