I Am Telling You. Poetry. Poem by RIC BASTASA

what cures the flu?
what drives away the boredom of bed?
what makes you sleep so soundly on a couch even without someone to hug?
what makes you occupied when there is nothing worth doing for the night?
what tells you that it is alright not to say something?
what makes you feel so comfortable with yourself?
what makes them feel betrayed for not posting what they expect to know for tomorrow's examination in law?
what makes you think that you are much better than the rest of the flock?
what makes your friends think that they do not know you anymore?
what makes you isolated and yet strong and stable like an island of Nonoc glittering red at night
like fire in the middle of
darkness?
what makes you wonder why are you doing this kind of non-essential pursuit?
what makes an irrelevant thought relevant?
the impertinent gesture pertinent?
the immaterial material?
what makes you feel the bitterness of tea
makes you remember beer with her
makes you feel like you are a stone sinking in the deepest part of the marianas
and yet so calm feeling the nearness of
death
hearing the music of a funeral march
and then wake up and you feel the plumpness of your muscles
and say
this is a different experience and write again
i am ok. i am doing fine. i am just into another exploration
and that this is temporary
and that tomorrow i will be back real as a book
starting over on the page that i left
back into the arms of the affairs of the state
upon a sensible and inanimate stare
like any other.

etc...

i am telling you.
Poetry.