Right, Wrong.... Poem by RIC BASTASA

i may tell you
that this is all a matter of
story telling
the one that you invent because the nights
are too long
and slow
and they all drag you to your bed
and the linens
do not make you sleep

meanwhile the ceiling plays with
the lapses of the lizards
as mosquitoes kept being fooled by
light and
shadows of the hands of the the
restless arms

i think i am wrong
most of the times
and i give always the impression that
i master what is
right and
adorable

i give you respect
through the signs of my fingers
and the unspoken words of
my mouth

and i beget respect
like leaves upon leaves of the crowning
glory of the
living tree

i am wrong this time
this is not about the world or
the stars
not even about you but this is all about myself

it is boring
it wearing the eyes that are disinterested
there is this routine
the break is unseen

i guess, i am right this time
when i tell you that
you must go...