If you knew you went inside me after ten at night,
and were the reason for the spliff at 4.20 in the morning,
and something extra, like the expected email,
which is always answered.
If you knew that each verse I write
I re-read, in delay mode, for you;
I know how to manage brainwaves,
I know about metals and energy,
I know about carbon and my antenna-hair,
I know that fire and vegetables gather,
I know the secret of broccoli:
It wants to be the drag queen of vegetables.
I know that the only thing that doesn’t grow with heat and water
that’s why the sun is ecstatic,
that’s why this planet is worried.
I know that all the masses which float
belong to us, we belong to them, we belong to each other.
And we spin,
and our rushing spins,
you don’t catch up and we spin,
I write the truth and we spin.
The chemical elements of our bones,
the quarks, make us rotate
and we spin,
without vomiting, we spin,
a slow-motion turn,
the spinning top of ‘someone’ who explodes with the launch’s speed,
at top speed, the particles fall apart,
and they said ‘another turn and we go’, and they went and left us, spinning.
If you knew, I say, like the @ncient poet,
as if modern verbs didn’t exist when
we speak of love,
of this rare creation of society,
which is addictive.
That’s why I write this with a dropper,
I’m a slow learner,
I’m accused of lacking ethics,
in this investigation.