Missing The Muddy Pair Of Shoes.... Poem by RIC BASTASA

at this hour i am talking to myself
senselessly, a talk that is a talk without any
purpose of an explanation or of trying to
understand, it is like simply standing beside the
rails of a house on top of a hill
beside the sea
and it is nighttime and what you see all around
is black and bleak
and so to keep yourself preoccupied
as you do not know what to do next after this hour
you keep on talking and talking
to yourself in
the anonymity of silence

it knows how to respond and keep you
sane.

then you go back to the kitchen door to
smell what is next
not black coffee this time
just red wine and pork chop

you make some roots
on the floor
you chant and grow some tendrils on
your hair that reaches the
bland cheek of the ceiling
somehow you want to kiss this
absurdity

not the kiss of death
just a kiss without any meaning
letting time pass

waiting for the light of the morning
loosen tight chests

getting dressed again
looking for the pair of muddy shoes