-

I drink coffee and write.
and embodied flavor of exotic Africa
writes out through me.

mind escapes to the widest fields of dotted green.
leaves of shortling coffee trees
sound too much like New York keyboards.
So with a flick of my left thumb
I order them to tune their spirit,
soak into Liszt, or Brahms at least.

I see fields of golden desert,
richness of the light and blue,
burning skin on trembling fingers
drowning into the depth of the river Fast.

It is me who escapes
off this room from Queens and mice.
and I do so only laughing,
only trusting bottled mind.

I should have taken pills this morning.
instead I'm traveling to the South.

And then dance comes,
claims my body
and my chest shoots up the Sun
arms fly forward
arms fly skywide
head turns black
and feet press loud,
and the thighs that promised strength
have melted up the hips and stomach,
corseted the muscles tight
lengthened ribs and knees in purple.
I am all and all in mine.

played my body like a drummer
little boy who was a girl
who has waited for the summer -
desert turned to caramel.

should have taken pills this morning
and washed them down with powdered Liszt.
should have, makes me sound so boring.