You told me
about a temple
where you needn’t force your prayers
I would’ve gone there,
But I’m too tired
and there’s no one left to lend me
their wings or their purple flood
maybe there’s no temple,
and there’s no prayer
I see you at times
In my silence.
In that park-bench,
with a scarlet skull and snow in his eyes
that giant bug we had once decided to pet
Sits, all alone, abandoned
For the man has got out of its skin today
And he stays in an attic room with a million mirrors.
The blue man with all his rainbow plumes
is too naked and too ashamed of his nakedness now
He pretends that he’s lost in the mist
The daylight’s too harsh, and way too much truthful
to comfort all those mirages.
No, I don’t,
I just pretend that I do.