A kid slips a newspaper
under my door
and the earth weighs heavier.
I drag my accustomed feet back
to the mat of my ancestors
swollen with sweat, semen and dreams.
I wear a mourning face to office;
carry a bag weighing a ton
and come home with my loads
when the sun sets with guilt.
The nights are usually long,
moist with sighs,
laden with mosquito songs.
I have decided just now,
I will live a life like
lying naked on a sea-shore
cold sand beneath and no moon above.
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