We Are Floating Like Kites Under A Storm. Poem by RIC BASTASA

when we talk you become one of my diversions,
like, i do not really mean what i say, so i will tell you
my day is loathsome, a kitten made love with me in
the kitchen or that a dog gets rabid and bites all the
railing of the stair, seeing to it that it does not kill
anyone,
there will be more, but they are parts of one fictional
inventions, a red horse full of bubbles, a carabao with
its magical horn that moves towards its brains which
we have to cut at once,
words move in different directions, forked and leading
us to nowhere.

i still live alone, and i do not have you really for an
intimate matter. I have nothing to confide, and you have
nothing to please me.

here we are floating like kites under a storm.