Modern gladiator:
Over my head, the open pit of despair awaits
Outside, in the cruel world, I assume many roles
In here, against my own naked flesh
I stand helpless against the truth
There is no way out, except through the sword
Perhaps a death, mine or that of my unborn adversary
Will you open the door, please the crowds?
I don’t know the depth of their adversity
And before I come to know it well
Solitude has taken over my dreams
Liquid lucidity evades my path as I climb up the stairs
Bed bugs, old canvass portraits, pictures of beggars from the third world,
A Thai hat, dirt in corners where the brooms don’t reach
There is a pattern to this random collection
The space grows around me like a suffocating cloud
Outside where I wear my many hats
[face him unwaveringly, aim your weapon]
A mulberry bush is blooming
[his eyes are not cruel, surprisingly, just sad]
Under a tepid sky
[is that my son? Yet unborn]
Black and deep purple
[slash knock kick]
the berries turn my hands to deep blood red
[a slight gash appears, a spot of blood?]
I am so lonely even in the middle of this intimacy
[open the paper boxes, find the medicines]
So lonely even as I smile and pour myself
[nothing can save him now]
A glass of water from the faucet
[why did I fight? Why did he give up without?]
A slab of chocolate disappears
[Guilt. Guilt. Guilt.]
And reappears as stomach pain
[Is that the sound of church bells that I hear?]
I turn my car around and park it under the shade
[Before I turn around I don’t look back]
I need flowers, a casket, a movie ticket,
[Behind me, the city melts and flows]
A couple of books, one red and one a leather-bound journal
[And becomes flat like a wafer]
To tell the tale, Prices of discomfiture
[Why are my legs still standing?]
I float away in a puffy cloud over the urban landscape
Like a picture post card
Over the bridge away from the crimson sunsets of the bay
I begin to inflate
Until I cannot breathe
Until I become everything that is around me
Until all that left in me is a shrewd pain of solitude
How do you deceive your own naked flesh?
Conversations jar like expletives in the ear
They are speaking an unknown language
I have no stories, no celebrations, no encores
Or celebratory poems
I forgot to pack my soul
It stands outside, banished from all discussion
All it has for company is the last dregs of the laughter from inside
As darkness falls
I contemplate a long jump from the bridge
So I can be flat like the city
To find some space in this city of two dimensions
Finally.
Discomfiture.
