there’s gotta be
some kind of metaphysical
lesson here, he
thought as
he turned away from her
in bed
and got slapped on the face
and had to turn
right back
and hold her in his arms
no exchange of
words between them
It’s been only a few months, perhaps
three or four, since
he broke into her
car
and stole her backpack with
money and her ID
and books and other stuff,
and returned it to her door
the next day
Pretending he was
this hero
who brings back the stolen goods
“A guy tried to sell me
these books to
get money for meth,” he said
when he gave it back
and from one word to another
the hero
eventually invited the
damsel in distress to dinner
and from then on
they became
a couple
“Know what you want in life
and go after it,” his
father would’ve said
It made sense, but…
attaining the object of one’s
desire
certainly isn’t always
a good thing
If we’re to get really
metaphysical here, people
are nothing more
than children in the grand scheme of
things
and children sometimes
desire to touch the hot stove
or to lick at the
blue flames thinking they’re cold
We think that the
fulfillment of one’s wish
translates into happiness
we’re so
damn wrong, aren’t we?
“Did you remember to set the
alarm for 6:30 AM?” she asked
in the darkness
“Sure,” he said.
“Good. Now squeeze me tighter. And don’t
let go even as you fall asleep or
I’ll slap you again.
Gods, love, sometimes I think you’ve
the mind of a child.
Why else won’t you understand that
the right dreams
come only as I’m being held tight,
squeezed in a man’s arms.
This night
the spirit guardian is going to
reveal to us
what grave to dig on the morrow. So
squeeze me right
while I tune in to hear, okay?”
“Uh… Right. Good night, love.”
“Good night.”
Many thanks to LatinosUSA —English edition for featuring my poem, "getting metaphysical"!
Check it out HERE!
Thank you!
Daydreaming as a profession 