The price of it

The cost is running high for it

when you refuse to receive help

when you need it the most and it shows

When wool is a blessing

but all you got are bread and salt,

nylon bags

and the wet earth for a bed

When you refuse to brag about what you did not achieve

When everyone else brags of what was given to them,

acting like they are entitled to express an opinion loud,

with animated gestures,

and when they are wrong,

they are forgiven

Like it is ok.

Well I want some of that too.

I also want to stroll down the street,

without a care in the world

To sleep.

My eyelids bite my face hard and I cannot think straight.

I want to stop for a moment and let the warm sunlight hit my face.

It is like I float in it.

Like the kiss of a loved one.

I want to realise that it is spring time before it’s gone.

I missed it last year.

The swallows are only tolerated on pretense of spring,

Most don’t like them nesting under the balconies

They find their singing irritating

They swear when they clean their droppings,

break their nests,

complain that they make too much noise.

The swallows nesting are only tolerated on pretense of a luck charm

They are never accepted

To hell with it.

I would leave you for the sea and her incandescent diamonds

tanning my skin.

I would go there alone, to live like some hybrid animal

jerking my feet clumsily

holding my breath underwater

looking for meat.

I would have my body dressed in her humid salty breath,

my hands constantly smelling of fish guts,

like the air in port,

when the fishing boats come in.

You can just about make out their shape on the horizon,

surrounded by flocks of seagulls claiming their treats.

I would leave you for the sea

but it is with you I feel at home with.