In the early morning
I should be sleeping
but I’m getting it in doses
whenever it comes to me
like a poem.
In the middle of the day
sleep and poetry
go hand in hand.
I lie in bed
thinking I will remember this
in the morning
but I rarely do
too lazy to wake up
to write it down
so I memorize it
in my mind
until
tomorrow
but the next morning
I make lunches, breakfast,
prepare clothes, drive
and I forget the sentence
thar kept me up
so I make up other ones
that keep me down
and tears,
well, they flow like words now.

White horizontal lines
on a black wall
standing in a corner
as I tell you
the pulse of my mind
and how sometimes
you see the same colors
when others don’t.

Red walls and dark curtains
lion legs
crystal whiskey glasses
and we fear the need
to break others’ hearts
yet here we are
staring at each other
for the first time
while others wash dinner dishes
at this time
or park their car in the garage
after a long day
as we say cheers
to each other
as we blend reality and fantasy
in our cooking pot.

Stir it baby
let’s see what we taste like
together.

And I’ll be standing in a corner
behind dark walls
with a group of friends
while we visit
Musée des Beaux-Arts
and even if I’ve seen this painting
only twice
it will always remind me of you
and even if I’ve heard that song
a million times
now, it shall remind me of you
and even if we never meet again,
I’ll always be reminded of you.