Sour Cream - Poem by Carlos Gutierrez
While eating sour cream from the refrigerator,
I stumble into the light that hangs upon the switch of Maracuya.
Dragged into the dreams of a million before and to come before and after me.
I reopen my eyes,
And the sour cream's jar lays broken upon the furious floor.
The tsunami that comes afterwards,
Is only a predictable measure of common sense.
She's warned the sour cream many times now...
She comes now,
With a broom on hand now.
And we wait.
I hold my breath,
As I encounter this... creature in it's wild-like habitat.
I observe; such a convoluted skill.
I see what I've seen.
But what ignites the questions at night,
Is the wonder of his thoughts in mind.
It's anybody's but nobody's guess, but mine.
But I don't own such a prerogative.
I'm only left with the parasitic questions...
And the hope that does not understand mixed signals.
I return from the void once again.
And mother continues to yell.
The sour cream did it now.
I walk around the glass shards.
I see what once was as something that was never anything now...
The leaders of some are the demons of others as well.
Repressing is such a bitter-sweet skill,
One not to be tampered with.
Because it all becomes stored in a jar.
Inside a sour cream jar...
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