Wednesday, November 23, 2016

In the Clear Age of Water

In the Clear Age of Water

The work of this day consists
in carrying a bag laden with rain
from here to there.

Once done, it's lift the bag 
with our tired eyes,
bury it in the lake of indifference
where sad conversations rot.

Let’s stamp life with graffiti.
After all, we are just the so-and-so's,
the whatshisname's,
the Tom Dick or Harry's of life

and rain is nothing more
than corrected, repetitive poetry,
a new pair of shoes
wanting to be so joyful
happiness tires
and refuses to do any overtime.

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