Rap With Me Silently Poem by Atef Ayadi

your eyes are open
your chest is open
your hands are open

to the stranger,
to waitress and possibly male waiters,
to the post officer or the mail box,

to the damn
to the fool
the drunk
to the fun
and to the chat room.

why not me?


you are thinking
but you do not actually thinking
you just wander
about
this tender
stake
-what is between your bones and baked skin-
who will
touch it
with his (her?) golden nails or hands.

i am here
to free you
from your skin,
the golden nails, and from your dream golden hands.

so follow me with your
heart,
listen to me with your deepest thoughs.

i am coming.
i will wash
and clean everything
from your cold war,
your hot wars,
and your little Faluja battles and your greediness for gold,

from your mind,
from your skin,
and from your tunnels, parks, and highways.