Seem to

The African tunes in your head won’t stop you
from lingering on those memories for a moment, not one,
And you turn your back to the people accompanying you on that train-ride
from A to B, while you’re gone
Gone from bliss and torture and nothing seems to express
the feeling you’re holding in your hands the best
While the worst part seems to have fallen behind you,
the clouds seem to have lifted, the wild breeze is still here, but you,
You don’t seem to mind the croaking baby, its first words of independence,
You’re putting on that bikini seemingly untouched,
And while you watch those faces pass,
exposed like a mannequin in a window selling fabrics they don’t need,
You seem to extend that breath onto other parts of your body,
parts that seem to have been asleep in slumber,
And you don’t seem to mind that numbness in your left foot,
in your ear, that buzz you’re left with at night.
It creeps all over you, that tingling you can’t get off your page,
and you seem way too pleased with how
And why the world is going to end,
you don’t seem to notice that black spot on your mother’s iris,
that undeservingly freaky title of that new comedy,
That mouth smiling back at you in that magazine you secretly despise.
You gloat at everything and everyone
and everything seems to gloat back at you,
so take a moment,
Fulfil that dream of automatic writing when phonology seems to dictate semantics,
when camel-piss is in your cup and you seem peacefully drown in it.

MJ 6/23/2010