rivista internazionale di cultura



There Are People

who hold an abridged tablet
of the ten commandments
in the space between their teeth and jaw.

who come into a room
with stardust on their breath
like a lullaby of backward halitosis.

who hold the planets together
by clicking their achilles heels three times.

who skywrite
without an airplane
without a net.

who twirl a room
like a rodeo for the sheepish.

who have bowling parties in their pajamas
while the rest of the world
seems like a pin
waiting for an angel to step out onto the dance floor.

who seem to have eyeball upon eyeball
like gumballs in an arcade of vision.

who walk into a room
a thermometer preceding them.

who wear their weather like perfume.

who know the cuckoo is the state bird
of most states of mind.

who went to the same high school
and spent each recess
in the lost and found room
uttering their phonetic name.

who will have conversations
deep as deathbed soliloquies
and never speak again.

who make whatever street they’re on
Telegraph Avenue 1964.

who write a shopping list
in hieroglyphics.

who look up at the sun
8000 times a day
and lack an eclipse.

who drag questions
from the tongue
like photos one second
before the crisp of a fire.

who ask nothing
and your heart sits like a blank check
in a bookstore that sells only elegy.

with a little past
behind their ears.

with a newscast
on their eyebrows.

no matter how many apples they held
teachers resented them.

who ring many doorbells
but won’t let themselves in.

who light candles half the week
and swallow swords the rest.

who memorize the footprints
made by the snow.

who dine on shivers.

who chew on icicles
all year round.

who pray
with the nostalgia of baseball.

who laugh at life
openmouthed like a kiss.

STORIE 47-48
© 2002 Leconte


COOLTURE | When Actors Go Mental

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