When Your Hearing Aid is Off
Those rare eyes contemplate
a grotesque city drowned in graffiti,
tombstone for exquisite corpses.
Where I come from people talk about sex
to encourage laughter. All trust their genitals
to the mouths of others. All.
Trees are paper crematory urns,
and water carries death camps
in its oxygen.
I'm deceived in believing I can rewrite all this pain.
Having a clear conscience is a symptom
of poor memory crowded between us
as if it were the sole opinion as to what
the meaning of facing each other
to discriminate is.