Monica... Poem by RIC BASTASA

do not adore me,
i am not one of those gods
of your past
or your present, i do not exist in the future
there is none for us
or for me
for i am destined to simply be
a soap bubble
early morning being played
by a reckless
kid
in our place,

i admit i write
because i have only a very short hour left
to cherish
i know what is there three meters away from where we are sitting,
it is the longest stretch that i can make
do not ask
do not take this as a puzzle for you to solve
time unlocks the door and the answer comes out
like a light bulb that you switch on in the dark

if you only know what i am seeing
when i write these lines
you will never like me ever
ever in the last hours of your life

i am seeing myself
in these flashes of films
and you shall not believe
how you can hate me later on
because you think that
you understand me
completely

monica i am never myself
even once
in that ticking clock

i am not a hidden treasure
that you can share with anybody
when you finally find me
in one of those nooks
unlighted
i can only think of one option for you
and this was the same thing
that i did
when i found the one that i truly love

i keep my mouth shut
not because i never loved anymore
anyone

but because i was never loved
by what i really loved
because there is no point of co-mixing
where water
and oil meet.

i shared you once
the story written by Sartre

and i will repeat it
Monica, there is really
NO EXIT.