Reading Dickens Poem by Alexandre Nodopaka

Shortly after three days of sweltering temperatures
and two days before the catastrophe of nine eleven
I was reading an essay about the British literati genius.

A cool breeze circulated through my custom slit jeans.
It was a quirky move on my part some years ago to scissor them
in four longitudinal segments up to the bend of my knees.

That in turn prompted me to experiment with a design
on my well worn skivvies because where I live
the temps are pretty warm most of the year..

In addition I practiced the Jackson Pollock dribbling streaming
paint brush strokes realizing that the latex actually helped
hold together some of the disintegrating fabric while adding

a posh cachet of pricelessness. The former information aside
my feet abutted contentedly against a squat rod iron table
while I admired its sturdiness and balanced equilibrium

despite the heavy pressure of my sandals against its rim.
All the while I intellectualized about my own great expectations
and the quagmire of the present state of business

and political affairs wondering if Al Qaeda will succeed in
delivering another knee jerking blow. None of this thinking
of mine was disturbed by the landing of a sixteenth of an inch long

six legged insect on Martin that couldn’t help remind me of,
So low had Eden brought him down. So high had Eden raised him up
mimicking perfectly my own present condition.