Jan 26, 2007 21:23
Once I carried my friend down to the river
I laid him down on the bank and began to unzip him
I undid that and then I unstitched him and very, very gently
With very, very gentle fingers
I opened him up
Inside him was:
Two dirty magazines
A checkerboard blanket
Ten thousand night-lights
And instead of a brain he had a CD player.
After I folded his skin back up
I sat down on the blanket and read the magazines
I played David Bowie on the CD player
And I used the night-lights instead of stars.
quebec era,
poem