Ruminate
now that the sun says goodbye
and the bodies begin to fall from the buildings,
we meet with knives in hand
and we shattered some more of the Earth.
motels swallow cravings in pairs,
the corners spew sins
and a cup sanctifies Bacchus.
by the table the teeth chew the cigarettes and the news,
the conversations and our vices,
the words and the cowardly sofa
distance us from who we really are:
the real beasts,
choosing the victims of the moment from the menu.
(but I like to think I'm on a train:
he glides silently across the field.
I calmly leaf through a magazine.
the sun is high in the sky
and far away the gows craze).
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