Treasure Island

RIC S. BASTASA


we who keep thinking


look at us
we who keep thinking
whose days run
like undecided metaphors
our bodies are bloating
with words
fattened with what we
grope and
cannot fully understand
eyelashes bent like
Nike
eyes that are strangers
to blink and wink
there is no more care
how this world goes
we, who keep thinking
stand on feet dissolving
on fingers that become
keyboards
we, are, reduced
to nothing but
your thoughts.

Submitted: Wednesday, April 21, 2010

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