The Cave
The lines on the wall merge and make kangaroos.
Kangaroos splattered on red stone,
on cave walls, and there is building fire.
Fire is coming toward my mouth.
The flame splits into two hands.
Two.
If sounds could fly,
these crackling embers would
rocket through the top
of this hollowed out
space.
With fire in me,
with fire digested,
with furrowed eyebrows,
with all of this widening,
I close my eyes and open them to see
a baby elephant spraying down flames
and a bird made of Hawaiian flowers.
I stop trying to decipher every image,
sit back and enjoy the picture show.
Playing cards covering the cave walls
and sharp red stilettos on unknown feet.
These feet are attached to a body I can’t see.
I peek
outside.
Giant stoplight in the sky
and it’s eternally frozen on red.
The clouds say Life Stops Here.
The red shoes and I long to be
above our island. Above
the monkey shit. Above
climbing for bananas.
Above the water.
Above it all.
I leave the cave for the first time in days,
retire the red shoes. May they rot.
The sun blinds me, but I’ve got vision,
enough to see a great tree
with a massive trunk. Bountiful leaves.
A gathering of bananas, ones as big as me.
Climbing has me two centimeters from collapsing.
Leap. I wanna be high. I wanna hop and
it begins here, with kangaroos etched
On the back of my hands (two),
The stoplight turns green and there’s me.
Opening my eyes. There is a bedroom.
There is sense.
I jump around my reality like a kangaroo.