I Began Longing Poem by Alexandre Nodopaka

in my old age
for exotic lands
where I used
to live
before coming
to the old USA.

There's something
about cobbled streets
almost narrow enough
when stretching
your arms
you sense
the closeness
of its walls
between
your fingertips.

Well,
it's like slithering
inside a woman.

I bet Jonas
felt that way
when he was inside
the gut of the whale.

A sense of aliveness
emanating
from the walls
whispering
the histories
of centuries.

Even now
I can smell
the hide of horses
and cows
and ghosts
that have gone
before me.

And to record
my own passage
I fart.

I bet you didn't
expect
such inelegant
metaphor.
But that's what
old age does.

Maybe that's why
most of my poetry
doesn't appeal
to publishers.

F#$k them!