Recording the urban and provincial reality. Ignoring the Spectator's impact.
Alienation is
the cold street lamps
the flashing lights of the cars
the electrician's sign in the corner
the pharmacy’s green cross
the television in the apartment next to ours flashing behind the orange curtain
the automatic floodlight that turns on at the entrance of the apartment building
the front driver's brakes
the warm stove outside the bar
the christmas lights
the reading lamp you bought for the living room
the green laser the cat chases
the bright collar the dog wears
the sparks of welding
In the darkness I saw the rings of Saturn.
Today I decided to take a walk.
An Impala passed in front of me.
Its hooves crunched the tar
which, until yesterday, the machines were lining.
In the holes below
I saw the tops of the cherry trees.
Pieces of tiles were thrown at my face.
My glasses cracked.
I smelled the plastic thyme burning.
I followed the smell
and I saw the animal grazing on the ashes.
Yellow beads decorated its horns,
woven into strips of leather.
Its hooves were dirty
with black soil and clay.
They trembled on the tectonic plates.
Pink gum was stuck to its meninges
like the ones we used to stick under the desk
when the teacher was yelling at us
"Respect the Class".
I'll watch it graze
melted buttons and spices
until it’s satisfied.
In my palms I will hold on
-patiently-
to the cosmic radiation,
until the moment
when the ashes vanish.
