Whirlwords Poem by RIC BASTASA

when you enter this room
you will meet us

you look at our faces
wearing different masks

when you smell us
you begin to think of dog's hair

you will be confused like a swirling door
we anticipated that from the beginning

scents interchange and
manners well studied get unpredicted

each gesture is mastered but
switching hands become a habit

you try the way we sound like moooo
listening carefully we waver for another idea

we anticipated that too
we have exchanged our tongues for some lips

not to be outwitted
you listen to the beatings of our hearts like native drums

you have heard everything from 'asshole' to 'zezbomba! '
now you have known me but who knows if

i have filled myself like a hot balloon
and then i am no longer there except the grass and the heat