This lab is hot, my mind
is on fire in the front of the rays.
I know i wont be able to sleep
after im done.
The smoke wafts
like incense in a temple and i want to wave it onto myself, I wantto quaff the holy water
in the ersatz well at the bottom of the church.
Keep these hands busy in front of me;
they’ll be strapped to the handle bars
of a moving bike
soon. There won’t be a place
to take a hot shower or a pen
to stick the contents of my mind to a page.
There wont be me,
just the tumbling wind
and the petrified plastic bags,
and the billowing clothes hanging to dry,
and the hot hot muscles moving
like a marionette, masterminded
by mercurial adrenaline
that might quit the minute a car cuts
my impetus. Got to stick with the torque,
the gyrating wheels,
man’s greatest creation, next to high heels,
which I left on the floor next to a silent pile of refuse
waiting patiently to be swept outside.
Ive forgotten myself in this inimical heat,
that makes my head go light and flaccid,
spinning like the asphalt rolling rolling by
beneath my wheels,
becoming one with wheels, slicing
the space between pebbles and particles,
and frames of references in paintings:
mountains and skies and flapping hawks
and greens with reds, and spots and stripes,
and shadows with shapes, and endless
contiguous courtyards with faces
that match and mismatch and melt.
The faster i ride the hotter i get.
My mind steams out of control.
Nakia, great images – thanks for sharing and especially taking the time to communicate your thoughts.