if others slithered between two air columns
the child who had never learned the race was running
as if swimming face to face with an ocean’s wall
his head like an iron ball
dragging the motionless body
only as far as the tethered roots could stretch

when his father carried him on his shoulders
the child felt through his nostrils
how the man’s steps slice the air
how the wind passes close to the ears as if
walking is another kind of flight allowed only to others
a perfectly directed music

with all his heart he would have liked to play
like a normal child
to forget he had had wings before growing roots
but others were faster while playing tag
they ran around him avoiding to touch him

he was left to be the savage defeated without fight
the blue acrobat in equilibrium on his ball
from another paradise

Fly high!
That's what they'll say,
after you wreck your car
and spill your brains.

They won't know--
or maybe they will.
****** tomb,
disguised as "wonderful daughter,
great friend."

Everyone has earplugs,
blindfolds too.
The epidemic is supplying
some for you.

Russian roulette
has some competition.
This ain't some new
invention...

Nobody cares--
it's not them.
Nobody cares--
unless it's them.
But it's too late by then.

you squinted through
and took a picture
that yellow summer
we sat under green trees
blew bubbles
that popped on the brown bark
the ground was littered with the fallen
a graveyard of white flowers
the wind turned them into dancers
broken butterfly wings
pretty like the boy
with the beautiful dreams
there was wetness on your cheeks
i took your hand
and snapped a picture

We both read our scripts,
but we're not on the same page.
You and I are just actors
who treat life as the stage.

We rehearse our lines,
but they're not what we mean,
for once lets break character
and call cut on this scene.

We could steal the show
if we rewrite the play
and end the charade
of this macabre matinee.

We've reached the finale,
there's no encore after all.
This is our shot,
our last curtain call.