RIC BASTASA


Bad Influence... - Poem by RIC BASTASA

listen
you are unhappy
and you drive
alone
on those winding
roads
of the faraway mountains
looking for nothing
finding no one
at the end
of your journey
and exhausted you stop
for a while
beside the
abandoned cottage
trying to figure out
what went wrong
and why....

i told you
it is not the heart
there is none
who has it
i advise you
it is nothing but this
flesh
these hands
are scrutineers
this body
is as warm as black coffee
and you take
the initiative of
sipping what is there
on the table
you put your arms
around you
and you lick your
lips
bland taste
of too much
restraint
your legs have taken
roots
and now
you cannot move.


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Poem Submitted: Monday, December 6, 2010



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