Walking on the side walk of a hot warm afternoon
with the sun glaring from above, killing me
and the husks around me with its death rays,
hot and sweaty afternoon, It is a terror from above.
Mid day heat, sun hanging right on top hanging by some
ethereal unseen godly thread, gigantic it must be I think,
Or maybe not.
Raging noises bounce within my head, orchestrated
by the breath of Zacharías de la Rocha and his merry men.
Singing of bombs and fuses and the devils of hell acting as angels
of high heaven. I stroll along, eyes wandering aimlessly
and people wandering aimlessly.
I see them see me and they see me seeing them.
Does it make a difference, really?
I head on down the road and buy a solitary fag from a small,
roadside shop. I burn the fucker at its tip and draw the blood from
its end. With each breath I release a portion of me, I for a moment
see my soul dancing in front of me, in the heavy smoke,
born of a few coins worth cigarette. I shake this thought and finish it.
I would reject it, throw it and stamp my authority on it,
As I would have always done. But with the red life coming to its end,
I solemnly push it and suffocate the fire on a solitary sidewalk brick.
A small speck of ember flies southward, kisses my foot-
With a painful sadistic ecstasy. I realize I am a sadist. I shake this off instantly.
I pay the money for this charade, take off and track my footsteps back
but the conjoined brother of that brick manages to trip me.
I dance feverishly till my feet decide to come back to their senses, normalcy.
An old man hunkering down, as if carrying the weight of the world,
erects a broken dying wall in front of me. A breathless voice calls on to me.
The voice weak and frail as it is, fails to penetrate ruthless chantings of Zack.
I recoil and take one half of the boom, screaming box from my ear,
the dying voice echoes, “Be careful boy.” With Zack’s voice hanging
on a thread, turned to screaming of a million ants, I take my husk back.
Go back whence I came, back to my sickening abode, as did my mind.