This is a no-fly zone:
I descend, take my wings off
I place them in my backpack
And I behold the fork on the road.
Both roads are what happens
Once everything has ended.
The question is where to go from there.
Moral assessments are made.
Social consequences will follow.
One road says Silence
And the other one doesn’t.
I scratch my beard
And all of its hairs fall off to the ground.
My African hairs pierce the ground like high-tech snakes.
They go into the soil of things
And a truth tree without leaves is born.
A truth tree only with branches,
I’m alone on this encrucijada.
My shadow has a shadow of its own in my heart.
My shadow came first in my evolutionary calvary.
My shadow doesn’t argue, she pulls.
The elephant in the room
Grows fat and impatient.
The elephant in the room
Steps on my body
And I am flattened.
I am now a bumper sticker:
Your choices behind the wheel matter
I keep saying.
I sit down on the universal toilet
Waiting to unflatten myself.
I close my windows against voyeurs.
I peel off my banana and I begin to sweat.
The idea behind choice is to see
How each road leads where
And then to look around to see
If your heart is somewhere there.
Representatives from each path
And from subpaths within paths
Come to me with pens, special brownies
And papers to sign
They want me to put my name
On places and moments
That are neither here nor now
And I take their brownies
And I make paper planes
With their futuristic contracts
And then I ghost them...
...Unable to know...what to say...
There’s an octopus on my face.
How it got here
The same can be asked of my face
And of this damn fork on the road.
Well, I’m blind and still somewhat flat
But I have a knife in my boot
Sharp enough for foreign tentacles
So I try to cut off its limbs
And each time I cut off its tentacles
Its testicles grow right out again.
Well, I have a lighter, so I try to burn
The octopus inside his brain
But the octopus is covering my eyes
So I fail again and again
Until I give up and I pull out a bowl
And I have a few puffs
And the octopus says hey man
Can I have some?
And I say can you get off my eyes?
And the octopus says of course man
You just had to ask.
The octopus is wise.
He’s seen much.
We finish smoking.
Now though there’s no oxytocin
Though my dopamine is limited
And my glucocorticoids are restless
I’m still on the road
With better vision
And ready to choose.
I don’t want to choose.
But I must:
My heart on the other side
Is waiting with the Self it wants
And I can’t use my wings.