Men are metaphors.
You alone are real.
We exchange our lovers
As a dirty moneylender his coins.
You alone, beneath the slapping of sweating palms
And sweating flesh,
Endure.
You are the hollow after every unfinished coitus,
The unclean feeling, the soiled sheets
Fanned by the spring breeze.
You are that breeze,
The mango tree in the courtyard while an alien
Destroys my body and destroys my house
Like a storm ripping through thatched huts.
You are the lazy black buffalo
Among the lotuses,
The rest.
You are the law.
And the lazy lad who breaks it
While coming home from school
One afternoon.


27th april, 2008.

Scio Amo