deepundergroundpoetry.com
The man who can't be moved
Today I saw a man
lying half naked
in a pool of dried vomit
flies making merry
and stray dogs watching
helplessly curious
to see such a sight
But oblivious he slept
this organism posing as human
a cheap porn magazine
lying crumpled a little ahead
must have belonged to him
I thought and saw a thong
quickly assemble
with meaningful grins
and hushed gibberish
When I reached the spot
I found their subject
of unbridled excitement
a faceless pregnant woman
in advanced stage
labeled and explained
and I felt something akin to
splinters blooming
like tropical buds
within
I felt ashamed
t w i c e
1.
For myself-for judging
the maternity guide too
quick
and
2.
For having come across
the man prostate on the
asphalt
In slow strides I walked back
with a storm gathering inside
after a night of reading about
symbolism and embolism
trying to invent something of a device
may be a coping mechanism
or a not-too-intricate rabbithole
while my nemesis slept naked
unfazed by morality and mortality
and I thought of asking him
what primitive kind of rotten bastard
he really was, but on second thoughts
he at least knew what he wanted
while I was anything but sure
about my own
Feeling like a ghost
I kept on moving away
cowed down by my troubling crisis
Came evening along with the
street lights-neon signs-smog
and on my stroll
I stared and smiled
as I came across
still lying there
unmoving, slow-breathing, aestivating
the man who can't be moved.
Photograph courtsey-Mehmet Turgut
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