Destinies Poem by Daniel Ionita

Like everybody else, Lorelei,
I was portioned a few destinies,
crammed one into the other,
according to some arcane
previously approved decisions.
These days I vaguely remember them.

In one of them
I was selling happiness to some tourists -
I was selling it as if it was some fairy-floss
from which they would take one bite,
and then throw it into the next rubbish bin.

In another one
I was some nocturnal clown
with long work experience
for the amusement of your body.

Then, from time to time
I would suddenly transform into a chubby Father Christmas
- always rushing and with a fed up attitude -
who 'd distribute toys made in China
to all those of a puerile, immature condition,
many of whom deserved
a back hand across their faces.
I was in fact doing exactly that
when their parents were looking away.
They would scream that
Father Christmas has hit them...,
but their parents would explain to them, patiently, that...
in fact, Father Christmas does not exist!

Often, I would wake up as a custom officer
for thoughts and dreams,
charging duty
for all sorts of high-volume subjective goods,
from prayers to palaver,
which were passing, planned or haphazardly,
through people's heads - mine, yours, everybody's.
I would stack them in a folder,
to be evaluated at the Last Judgement.

Finally, with the passing of time,
I was introducing myself
as a professor of calligraphy,
in a world where no one
was writing with pens anymore.
They were all laughing at me,
pounding on keyboards
monotonous and deadly keyboards.

Now, like all foolish lovers,
I see myself crushing into the rocks,
mesmerized by your voice.
I would do it again,
because through all these destines
I loved you.