Alien Boredom

I’d like to believe that something always comes up

that I have all sorts of opportunities and dates that I’m trendy and get around

but it’s rather like the bus rides through moldavia

hamlets villages and towns that stretch the distances

it’s as if you stood still

you’d stick your tongue out to people, out of boredom

I gaze through the window and my head probably looks like a deflated ball

to the gipsy girl selling sunflower seeds on a street corner in bacău

to the drunken redneck walking in the middle of the road

as we enter botoşani

I wish I were a little worried for them

I wish I were more protective at least about that which is closer to my skin

the meaningless days pass I loaf and am ashamed

I try to get out of the house as rarely as possible

I’d allow myself to be bound

that would get my blood running

or I’d walk through the garden with blooming quinces

but damn it I have no garden

never did

and the nearest park in the neighbourhood is the courtyard

of the mental hospital

I walked the long alleys with o.s. and neither of us

felt like doing something

but we kept yabbering about esenin and isadora duncan

when I cut myself on the tin can sawdust poured out of the open wound

I yawned and try to bandage it

I made myself a cup of coffee and forgot about the stinging and the bandages

a brown mouse rolled around in the sawdust

a sort of complicity had occurred