Easy, Easy,
The three hands of the clock
stand at ninety degrees.
My roots are on the couch,
my eyes turn toward
the approaching feet,
my ears toward the wrist turning
the key in the door,
the smell of vodka slipping
into my nose.
When a lucky break falls
right into my lap,
I need no lawyer,
I know nothing of the law.
I pull half a body close
and lay it crosswise across the bed.
Geckos, spiders, cockroaches, bedbugs, cats —
I don't bother counting them,
nor the table lamp,
the curtains, the bookshelf.
All the sourness in my mind,
I kick more than a dozen times
straight into the goal,
and a little
Zuu... escapes my lips.
......................................
One more calendar page
belonging to an animal—
I treat
it like an animal would.
It's
easy, easy.
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