I need cool. I need temperature control
Thermoregulation is a must
I manufacture my climate
Like a spaceman.
The fan whirrs round and round
It mesmerizes. I lie spread-eagled
On the cotton sheets shielded from flies, mosquitoes
The teeming world outside
Swarming and strident
I have pills to calm me down, to sooth my aches
I have pills to help me sleep, to keep me happy.
I am sampling another culture
Through pharmaceutical armor
I dare not drink the water
Eat the food
I make small sallies out, not far from base
Snatching tiny snapshots to digest
Later, they’ll regurgitate as poems
The fan whirrs round and round. It mesmerizes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem