the drug kept riding my / head until I slid past sane/
into the room out back with the shivery-silver hue/
we blackdanced there until I felt the heartbeat thrash onto my tongue…
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They whistle before telling us a lie.
We’ve grown weary of Greats.
We’re almost dead, almost alive.
We wish for the energy to daydream.
When I was young I wanted a statue of myself. I was humble, I wanted a mere statue for saving a lake or a patch of forest or something, not to revolutionize the study of truth, like my dad, who wanted to “beat Einstein,” a dream he abandoned four months before graduating with a PhD in Physics to help my mother start an accounting firm in Arizona…
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You wish not to leave the hospital. Alone in a new country, you have nowhere else to go. When you smile at your child, it is your first betrayal. Secretly, you withhold your love from her to devote it to another—the dream that you blindly followed across the ocean because you believed its promises.
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