Do we think about the ugly, scarred and sad things that hold up the beautiful, shiny ones? Underbelly of the Lourvre’s shiny glass pyramid.
Let’s pause for a moment here on this square of cracked pavement
look down at my cool sneakers and think
about the many gnarled fingers that prodded and pulled
so that I’m able to pardon my incongruity
with a carefully strewn together persona.
Let’s quieten for a breathe here in the middle of a weighty word
taste the sliver of curried scampi and philosophize
over the freedom that is ransom
for this delightful supper that neither of us wants to be at.
Let’s peel away the brittle layers of my first-world deliberations –
(why do they speak to me about scars I cannot see, what
could I possibly do for someone else’s 8.7 target?) –
the mulberry shade of my lips is what really needs more work
don’t you think?
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